


In This Wild & Wicked World

by baseballbullshit (beabaseball), rattlemeoldbones



Series: Terrible Interconnected RP shenanigans (Batman) [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, Justice League (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Canon-Typical Violence, Cults, Dimension Travel, Gen, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Other, Roleplay Logs, Skippable Sex Scenes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-05
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-07-07 10:36:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 46,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15906570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beabaseball/pseuds/baseballbullshit, https://archiveofourown.org/users/rattlemeoldbones/pseuds/rattlemeoldbones
Summary: After several encounters with extradimensional surges, this new, larger surge seems different somehow.Or maybe what's different is that someone else reached the poor Leaguer falling through the wormhole first, and now it's up to Batman and Superman to try and get a young and inexperienced Superman and his partner back to health, and safely home.





	1. rocks fall clark dies

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Hayley Kiyoko's Wild and Wicked World  
> https://youtu.be/bFFHBvX75-M
> 
> Any sex scenes will be posted as their own, separate chapters, and be easily skippable that way.

…

 

It had been a while since they had a Surge. Bruce had almost hoped they'd been done with. 

 

He hadn't   _ expected _ them to be. But he hoped. 

 

...of course, now that Clark had the portable ‘zeta tube’ blueprints, they had less to worry about, but all the same, when a massive surge opened up over the Atacama, he hit his com and checked with Clark first, to make sure he was somewhere safe, because this one--

 

This one was  _ massive.  _

 

\--

 

**Clark got back to him instantly.**

 

**He was okay and would be on his way to check on it as soon as possible.**

 

**… By the time he got there it was over.**

 

**“Looks like it's calmed down.” He relayed through his comm.**

 

**“I do see something odd though. Moving in.”**

 

**…**

 

**The next thing Bruce heard was Clark making a pained, panicked noise.**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce wasn't going to lie and say he wasn't fuckin glad Clark wouldn't be flying into the maw of one of those things  _ again _ , because the last time when Clark had vanished for days on end had been pretty rough on everyone. 

 

He'd already said his usual, “use caution,” and was listening in on the earpiece when the gasp came through. 

 

“Superman?”

 

He stood, and then forced himself to sit again, realizing there was nothing to do but stick to the computers. 

 

\--

 

**“You need to get here,” Clark said.**

 

**“Now.”**

 

**\--**

 

He frowned. 

 

“Tell me what's happening.”

 

But he was up and moving again. Heading to the jet. 

 

\--

 

**“There's-- I'm not sure if it's another Superman, but he's in bad shape. Kryptonite in his chest.”**

 

**“... There's nothing I can do. I can't get close.”**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce took a deep breath. 

 

“Keep your distance. Keep the perimeter secure. I'm sending Barry; he’ll be faster than me. I'm on my way.”

 

\--

 

**“Will do.”**

 

**Clark kept his distance, but just watching the other… him… was painful.**

 

**…**

 

**Superman was still alive, but in absolute agony. He had never felt anything like it before. His skin was turning green, blood dripping from his mouth.**

 

**He was going to die. Someone had taken Batman and he was going to die.**

 

**\--**

 

….even with Super Speed, it was a long twenty minutes before a crackle of lightning burst over the hills of the desert and ran down the dunes. 

 

“I’m here!” shouted a thoroughly distressed Flash, just starting to slow down so he wouldn't trip over the body. “Where is-- okay I see him I’mgonnaturnaroundbye--”

 

He slowed in his dash just enough to manage a stumbling stop by the body, fumbling and pale-faced at the spread of green and sight of blood on the man’s chest. 

 

“Oh, geez, oh boy, I'm sosorrySuperman!”

 

He gripped the hilt of the kryptonite knife and pulled it with a  _ slorckp  _ out of the stranger’s chest.

 

And then he was running. 

 

Getting it away from Supermen as fast as he could, and delivering it to Gotham. 

 

\--

 

**“Thanks Flash, good job!” Clark called out, and quickly landed once the kryptonite was out of range. He rolled Superman on his side so he didn’t choke on the blood in his mouth. “You’re going to be okay.”**

 

**\--**

 

“Superman, report,” Batman said over the com. “Flash says he's made the pickup. Can you move him?”

 

\--

 

**“I think so.” Clark said, and Bruce could hear someone else groan in pain as Clark lifted him up.**

 

**“Yeah, we’re enroute.”**

 

**“B-... Bats-- took…” A weak voice gurgled out.**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce could hear through the com, and frowned. 

 

“Don't lose him, but try to keep him quiet. I'm out of Metropolis. Meet in DC?”

 

They had another bunker there. It would shave off a few minutes of Clark’s return time. 

 

That might be what they needed. 

 

\--

 

**“10-4.”**

 

**… Clark did his best to keep his double conscious, but he ended up fainting partway to their journey.**

 

**But he was alive.**

 

**Clark touched down in DC at the bunker and walked Superman in. Green skin aside the most distinctive thing about him was his outfit.**

 

**It wasn’t bright. It was blues and reds, but they were muted. He wore a broken pair of goggles. And strangest of all his symbol of hope was framed by that of a bat on his chest.**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce had just gotten the plane in the hanger and was setting up for  _ anything  _ when Clark finally returned. 

 

And yet, he couldn't quite find himself prepared for the strange figure in Clark’s arms. 

 

“...put him on the table. He's definitely kryptonian?” Bruce asked, more Batman than anything else at the moment, even as he opened the black briefcase he'd brought with him; replaced his gauntlets with latex gloves. 

 

Somehow, he'd ended up being the foremost idiot in the world on Kryptonian health. 

 

“Sunlamps in the plane. Bring out as many as you can carry and set them up.”

 

He started to prod around the chest wound with his fingers. 

 

\--

 

**“As far as I can tell, yes.” Clark said, setting the man down on the table and then quickly flying into the plane to start carrying out sunlamps.**

 

**The man on his table looked young, and the wound appeared on the surface to look like a regular stab wound.**

 

**… But he was kryptonian, and it had been kryptonite.**

 

**The flesh around the wound was green and wrinkled, veins protruding and inside muscle and tissue where it had touched looking discolored and dying. Those 20 minutes it had taken Flash to get to him only made it worse. His organs had started to fail, he had bled internally. The only thing that had kept him alive was the sun beating down on him.**

 

**His outfit** **_wasn’t_ ** **kryptonian though. It was man-made. It was like** **_his_ ** **armor.**

 

**\--**

 

…

 

When Bruce was a kid, he'd wanted to be a surgeon, like his father. 

 

He supposed this sorry scene was as close as he'd ever gotten. 

 

A young, dark-haired man, bleeding out on the table, wearing the Bat on  _ his  _ armor. 

 

Now wasn't that a goddamn nightmare.

 

He threw the gloves off. New ones came out. He pulled on a face mask and started trying to slide an oxygen tube down the kryptonian’s throat, more to keep him from choking than for the more human need for oxygen--but it eliminated at least some worry. Slid on a heart rate monitor. 

 

Then, once the lamps were on and would hopefully be the life support they'd need, Bruce said, “you’ll want to get away from me and not kill me until this is over.”

 

And from inside the black briefcase, he pulled out a smaller, blacker box. 

 

Lead lined. 

 

And from inside, he pulled out a glowing green scalpel. 

 

\--

 

**“Wh-” Clark began, but as soon as he couldn’t see through the box he knew.**

 

**“... Keep me posted.” He said, looking at the young man one more time before he quickly got away.**

 

**\--**

 

“I will,” he said. “...watch the comm. Alfred will be analyzing the knife Flash dropped off. 

 

And he began to cut away at the dying flesh inside this Superman’s chest. Anything greener than an off-yellow had to go. 

 

And it would, unfortunately. 

 

...he had other tools, too. 

 

A hooked needle he'd made out of another long strand. He'd try to stitch the man up from the inside out. 

 

Blood as red as any human man on his hands, dyed with sickly green. 

 

...and after what felt like an eternity, he had closed as many internal wounds as he could find, and started to stitch up the gaping chest wound on top. 

 

...and it was done. 

 

\--

 

**Superman didn’t wake up until a short while after it was finished, when Bruce was cleaning up.**

 

**He felt something in his throat and started to choke.**

 

**Before his eyes even opened he was yanking the tube out, along with whatever sickly green blood had still been caught between his teeth.**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce turned at the sound, scowling as the tube was ripped out before he could even say anything. 

 

And the mask still on his face did  _ nothing  _ to disguise the scowl. It was abundantly clear. 

 

“I was going to tell you to cut that out, but I really shouldn't have even bothered thinking I stood a chance.”

 

He sighed and hit the com. 

 

“He's alive.”

 

\--

 

**“On my way.” Clark said on the other end.**

 

**Superman just looked up at him, vision blurred and hair plastered to his head with sweat. Even his eyes were green and a sickly yellow.**

 

**“B-... Bruce… th-thought they took you…”**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce made a split second decision. “No, stay.”

 

He turned to Superman again. Voice neutral. 

 

“Lie down. You're a mess. You though who took me?”

 

\--

 

**That seemed to be all he needed to lay down, Batman’s word.**

 

**“I dunno…” he admitted.**

 

**“Th-they looked like** **_ninjas_ ** **.”**

 

**\--**

 

“Ninjas?” he said, almost interested sounding. He moved… closer to the bed. Cautiously. Not sure when the illusion of being that world’s ‘batman’ would fade. 

 

“What do you remember?”

 

\--

 

**“Th-... I got stabbed…” Superman mumbled, and looked down at himself.**

 

**“... Oh my god I got stabbed.”**

 

**He was still pretty out of it.**

 

**\--**

 

“...you're alright now,” Bruce said, voice gentle, despite himself. 

 

He would never be able to erase the scars on any superman’s chest. 

 

“We got it out of you. What else?”

 

\--

 

**It took a moment for him to look away from the stitches in his chest and remember what he was even talking about.**

 

**“The… the explosion. We fell.”**

 

**…**

 

**“You were trying to pull the knife out… ‘n then there were** **_ninjas_ ** **. ‘N they grabbed you and I couldn’t stop them.” He said it like it was just a dream he was recounting.**

 

**…**

 

**“Why d’you sound like a smoker?”**

 

**\--**

 

“You're probably still rattled,” Bruce said, trying to dismiss his fears. He stayed by the bedside, looking over the vitals once more. 

 

“We fell, and there were already ninjas waiting?”

 

\--

 

**“N-no. They showed up afterward.” Clark shook his head.**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce nodded. Reached down to finish wiping the blood off the table, looking at the new Superman through his mask’s clear eye sockets. 

 

“Alright. Good.”

 

…

 

“Do you remember what triggered the explosion?” he asked, pushing his luck.

 

\-- 

 

**“... No.” He shook his head, but his eyes were looking at Bruce a lot harder now.**

 

**“... You’re not Bruce.”**

 

**\--**

 

…

 

He couldn't help but crack a little smile under the medical mask. 

 

“You really do recover fast…”

 

He shook his head and straightened up, going for the com again.

 

\--

 

**Dawning horror grew on Clark’s face. “The ninjas were real.”**

 

**He started to scramble off the table. “The ninjas were real!”**

 

**They were real and** **_had Bruce_ ** **.**

 

**\--**

 

“ _ Lie down,”  _ he snarled, turning to glare the boy into submission. “You pop those stitches open and  _ none of us  _ will be able to help you.”

 

He was almost a little offended he'd been compared to a smoker earlier. 

 

_ Now  _ his voice was gravely. 

 

He hit the comm button. 

 

“He's back to being lucid. You can come in.”

 

\--

 

**Clark soon found out his legs just** **_weren’t going to work_ ** **. He collapsed as soon as he tried to leave the table, his head spinning. “They-- they have Bruce. I need to go--”**

 

**Superman entered just in time to see his other fall off.**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce was making his malcontent way over, and--

 

He hoisted the boy like he was nothing. 

 

Deposited him back on the bed. 

 

“ _ Lie down  _ or you will not get the chance to help your Batman,” he said, glaring. 

 

\--

 

**Clark gurgled as he was lifted up, trying to fight Batman off but having no strength to do it with as Superman flew over.**

 

**“It’s alright, we’re here to help,” he said.**

 

**And Clark blinked and gave him the biggest, startled look he could manage.**

 

**\--**

 

They both had the same symbol on their chests. Even if one lacked the Bat. 

 

Bruce was here for that. 

 

He finally pulled off and discarded the medical mask, revealing a chiseled jaw and five o’clock shadow that had been plaguing him recently. 

 

“You fell into a wormhole,” he said, deciding it best to get things over with. “This is this world’s Superman.”

 

\--

 

**Clark looked back and forth between them.**

 

**…**

 

**He eventually settled on Batman.**

 

**Smarter.**

 

**“A wormhole.”**

 

**\--**

 

“It's what they seem to be,” he said dryly, as if he knew  _ exactly  _ what sci-fi books were going through the boy’s mind right now. “Of course, considering aliens, it's not so much of a stretch. This is our fifth.”

 

\--

 

**Clark still needed a couple of seconds to really… process that. He looked at them again.**

 

**Older.**

 

**Then down at the symbols on their chests.**

 

**Separate.**

 

**“You sure I didn’t just… die? And this is a weird… alien… limbo?”**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce looked at Clark. 

 

“You remember alien limbo?” he asked, more to kill himself than anything.

 

\--

 

**Superman gave Bruce a very dry look. “There wasn’t an alien limbo.”**

 

**“Why are your symbols separate?” Clark asked.**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce had had a long day already, digging around in a teenager’s chest. 

 

It was hard for him to not point out that since they were referred to as symbol _ s _ , they were already inherently separate, and clearly claimed by one or the other. 

 

But instead he said, “...because.”

 

\--

 

**“Eloquent.” Superman said to him, then looked at his double. “Why are yours together?”**

 

**Clark’s green eyes looked between them. “Because we’re… partners.”**

 

**Yes.**

 

**\--**

 

…

 

Bruce didn’t ask for clarification. 

 

It really  _ was  _ another world. 

  
Still. 

 

“...you’re active at your current age, as a team.”

 

\--

 

**“... Yeah. We’ve been a team since we were about 16. Active together since we were 18.”**

 

**Superman looked a little confused, because** **_how would they have known one another back then?_ **

 

**\--**

 

...Bruce’s frown deepened.

 

“I was active at eighteen,” he said, clearly incredulous. “As Batman.”

 

\--

 

**“I started at seventeen. Bruce started helping a little before we started college. He wasn’t Batman until… 20 almost.” Clark looked between them again, starting to look almost angry.**

 

**Back to Batman. “You’re doing the fighting?”**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce ignored that question.

 

...but now that the Superman was looking at him as a different person, he would be able to see whatever discrepancies there were between them.

 

(A more muscular build. A suit built more for defense than stealth.)

 

(his hands, bare from the gauntlets still discarded at the bed’s floor, were covered in calluses and scars.)

 

But Bruce was frowning, still. Thinking hard. 

 

“...describe the ninjas, again. Uniforms? Anything said?”

 

He had a pretty good idea who had taken Batman. 

 

The only question now, was  _ how _ .

 

\--

 

**If it weren’t for the topic being redirected to** **_his_ ** **Batman, he would have started yelling at this world’s Superman for** **_not doing his job protecting Bruce_ ** **.**

 

**“I- they were** **_ninjas_ ** **. Typical ninjas. All black. Same uniform. Different weapons. I didn’t see any faces. None of them said anything.”**

 

**\--**

 

…. Ugh. 

 

Fuck. 

 

Bruce tugged off the Batman masked to pinch the bridge of his nose, as if he had a headache. 

 

“Goddamn ninjas,” he muttered. 

 

“...I have an idea who probably found you. I just don’t know how, or where they would have taken him. But if they didn’t kill him then and there, then he’s still alive now. So don’t do anything stupid like getting out of bed.”

 

\--

 

**“** **_Who?_ ** **” Clark demanded, sitting up. But Superman guided him back down.**

 

**“We’re going to help. You’ve been** **_poisoned_ ** **and seriously hurt. The best thing you can do right now is rest.”**

 

**\--**

 

“Do you know what kryptonite is?” Bruce asked, tired, but glad Superman had taken the initiative to get him back down.

 

\--

 

**“Kryptonite?” Clark asked, oblivious.**

 

**\--**

 

“...” he looked at Superman, not sure if Clark would ever need this information, and almost hoping he never would, really. “...do you know the word ‘Kryptonian’?”

 

\--

 

**Superman just took a breath.**

 

**“... No?” Clark said.**

 

**\--**

 

…

 

Even Bruce’s voice was a little soft. 

 

“...I see,” he said. 

 

“...very well. All you need to know right now is that kryptonite is a newly discovered material. Its radiation is relatively harmless to humans, but it is toxic to your physiology. Superman’s physiology.”

 

His eyes were dark and serious. 

 

“It can, and will, kill you. It’s the reason they were able to stab and disable you so easily.” 

 

\--

 

**Were Clark not already so pale and green he would have gone paler. “I see…”**

 

**…**

 

**“It felt like someone put acid in my blood.”**

 

**Superman tried to keep a straight face. “Right now you’re still poisoned. The sunlamps will help, but you’ve suffered some pretty serious damage. It’ll take a few days for you to be closer to normal.”**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce nodded, watching them.

 

“...the knife didn’t give a clean entry or exit, either. I’ve stitched you up as best I can to keep you alive while you heal. But you’ll need to avoid killing yourself until then if you want to help your Batman. Understand?”

 

He gestured once to a bucket on the side of the bed.

 

Filled with bloody latex and towels. 

 

“...in the meantime, we’ll search for where he’s been taken and mount a rescue.”

 

\--

 

**… Clark nodded.**

 

**“And you said you think you know who did it? That he’s alive?”**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce nodded. 

 

...looked up at his Superman briefly, before looking back down at the child.

 

“...Yes. If it’s who I suspect. Do you know the name Ra’s al Ghul?”

 

\--

 

**He shook his head, but Superman did by this point.**

 

**“I wonder how they found him so fast.” He said aloud.**

 

**\--**

 

“That’s my question,” Bruce said, scowling. He bent down and picked up the discarded gauntlets. “..but I don’t tend to like mucking around with magic enough to give you much of an answer.”

 

\--

 

**“Wait, magic?” Clark asked.**

 

**\--**

 

“God, your world sounds like paradise,” Bruce said dryly just at that. “Help me get him to the ship. I’ve got to shower before the gala and Alfred can watch his vitals while I’m gone.”

 

\--

 

**Superman nodded and reached down to help carry his double.**

 

**“Ain’t paradise if you still gotta go to** **_galas_ ** **.” Clark mumbled.**

 

**\--**

 

He looked at Clark with some mild surprise, but said nothing about it, though Superman might catch some amount of amusement in it. 

 

But they got the boy hero into the ship, laying him down on the med cot that folded out from the wall and strapped a buckle across his belly to help him keep steady. 

 

“One hour,” he told them, and went to the front to start the flight, and talk into the comm with Alfred, asking for details about the knife and telling him to prep a cot for their guest.

 

\--

 

**Clark groaned as he was carried from the table into the plane and strapped in, still feeling like he was going to vomit up all his insides. Bruce would be able to hear him speaking to Superman from where he was.**

 

**“Do you know what we are?”**

 

**“... Yeah.” Superman answered with some hesitation.**

 

**“Did you get to meet our parents? Or others like us?”**

 

**Again, more hesitation. “... Yeah. Sort of.”**

 

**\--**

 

...he was going to have to save him, wasn’t he. 

 

“Kent,” he called. “No destabilizing timelines.”

 

A way out.

 

An excuse.

 

\--

 

**“Right.”**

 

**Relief.**

 

**“Dammit.” Clark groaned.**

 

**\--**

 

“Stop taking advantage of your own goddamn bleeding heart,” Bruce said, and kept them flying. 

 

\--

 

**“No.” Clark groaned from the table. “I’m a sap and a sentimental fool and you can do nothing about it.” He wiggled his legs a little and the coughed.**

 

**Superman chuckled.**

 

**\--**

 

“...Superman, you could learn something about manipulation from that one,” he said. 

 

\--

 

**“Hey,” Superman began, but was cut off by Clark.**

 

**“I learned to just accept it from** **_you_ ** **.”**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce stiffened imperceptibly. 

 

… 

 

“Must be nice to have someone who actually listens,” he muttered, and ended the conversation.

 

\--


	2. someone has more dad issues than normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> please get excited about these dumb kids

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have 0 self control

**…**

 

**They had come out of nowhere.**

 

**Both of them had been falling, and Clark had caught him but he was** **_hurt,_ ** **actually, legitimately hurt.** **_Bleeding_ ** **.** **_Dying._ **

 

**Clark was dying.**

 

**They were in a hot, dry place with nothing for miles and Clark was sputtering blood and the next time Bruce looked up there were figures surrounding him, all dressed in black.**

 

**\--**

 

It had to be the knife. 

 

Nothing had ever so much as  _ scratched  _ Clark’s skin without using the force of a gunshot, but the knife had slid into Clark’s chest with an unsettling ease. 

 

He didn’t know if pulling it out would bleed Clark dry or not. If their clotting agent even  _ worked  _ on aliens. 

 

But he knew, at the very least, that these people had to be after Superman, and that Bruce couldn’t let them get anywhere near his prone body. 

 

But fuck, there were so many of them. 

 

It wasn’t like Bruce couldn’t fight, like he hadn’t been training since he was a young teenager: wrestling, kickboxing, krav maga, tai chi--anything he could get a class in. Anything he could learn to feel a little stronger. 

 

But he’d only ever had to fight one or two people on his own, at best.

 

If there was ever a crowd, he had always been with Superman, and usually far above that group anyway, hiding in the shadows. 

 

This time, he didn’t have that choice. 

 

He fell into a defensive stance and tried to not count seconds in his head. Tried to not hear Clark moaning out his dying breaths. 

 

The first dark figure that moved in, he lashed out at, trying to keep them back. 

 

And he was swarmed. 

 

\--

 

**It was easy. It was so, so easy to overpower him in comparison to the Batman they knew. There was a hard blow to his head before the world would go black, either by losing his consciousness or shoving a bag over his head. Either way they would leave Superman to bleed to death in the sand.**

 

**…**

 

**Hours later cold water would be tossed into his face as he sat tied to a chair.**

 

**\--**

 

The one they’d known might’ve been overpowered eventually, but he would have taken so many more down with him. 

 

This one had perhaps managed a broken nose or two. Not bad for a civilian--

 

But still a civilian.

 

The Batman  _ they  _ knew would’ve already been awake and escaping, still feigning a convincing sleep. 

 

This one gasped when the water hit him, jerking awake like a child out of a nightmare, only to find a new one waiting for him. 

 

He was still able to take inventory as he woke: 

 

His hands were tied, and it sent his heart ratcheting up into a panic. His mask was missing: his hair was wet, and his eyes were blinking out the cold water, and the scar was clear as day on his face. 

 

And around him in the room, the one who’d thrown the water--

 

\--

 

**“If I weren’t so confident in my own abilities to track you down, I would have doubted you were a Bruce Wayne at all.” Said a graying, bearded man in front of him. Plenty of others were around too, all in black.**

 

**“Do you even know who I am?”**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce found himself shivering as the cold water seeped into his suit, glaring up at the group that had kidnapped him. Clenched teeth. 

 

He didn’t reply.

 

(he had no idea at all, and all he could think of were men in owl masks, staring down at him from a semi-circle auditorium.)

 

\--

 

**“... No. You don’t.” The man said, and it was hard to tell if he was relieved at that or disappointed.**

 

**“I am Ra’s Al Ghul. And this-” he gestured outward to their surroundings. It looked like they were in some sort of excavated cave. “-is my home. You are welcome here.”**

 

**His arms were folded back into their large sleeves.**

 

**“Untie him.”**

 

**\--**

 

One of the many in the crowd around Ra’s moved forward, moving behind Bruce’s chair and cutting the ropes without a word of question or protest. 

 

...it happened so quickly, Bruce almost couldn’t believe his wrists were free, even as he pulled them forward and saw it for himself. 

 

“...What do you want?” he asked finally, fixing Ra’s with the hardest Wayne stare he had. 

 

\--

 

**“I want nothing more than to help nurture you and see you succeed.” Ra’s said, walking past him.**

 

**“Follow me.”**

 

**\--**

 

Something prickled up Bruce’s spine as that man walked passed him.

 

(He may not have been this world’s Batman, his nerves healed and hands not so raw, but he still had the instincts that had built the man.) 

 

He did stand, and turned to watch where Ra’s moved, but he did not take a step to follow.

 

“...what have you done with Superman?”

 

\--

 

**Ra’s stopped and turned to look at him.**

 

**“Nothing.”**

 

**And he started walking again.**

 

**If Bruce didn’t start to follow one of the ninjas would grab him and shove him along.**

 

**\--**

 

He was grabbed and shoved forward, and, grudgingly, began to follow behind Ra’s. 

 

...watching. 

 

...he wasn’t an idiot. 

 

He knew he couldn’t fight this whole room. And he had no idea how many others were outside, or how large the ‘cave’ was. 

 

So he followed, feeling like it would’ve been better if his hands were still tied. 

 

If he could get Ra’s alone, maybe he could--

 

Could find out where he was. 

 

And get back to Clark.

 

\--

 

**Even as they began to walk it was clear that he wouldn’t be getting time alone with Ra’s anytime soon. Every inch of the place was** **_crawling_ ** **with assassins. It looked like it was something between an oriental shrine and an underground base. Half was filled with all the amenities someone of a high mystical standing could want, while the other half was filled with all manner of technology and surveillance.**

 

**And he began to tell Bruce what this place was. Who** **_he_ ** **was.**

 

**Ra’s Al Ghul. Leader of the most powerful League of Assassins in the world.**

 

**\--**

 

...Bruce felt his throat slowly closing up. His tongue going dry. 

 

_ ‘Don’t call me a prodigal son _ ,’ he thought.

 

(He was fine. A stab wouldn’t kill Clark. He was fine.)

 

(He was the one person Bruce didn’t have to worry about. So he had to be fine.)

 

...he moved as blank-faced and silent as he could behind Ra’s, looking at the corridors, trying to memorize the layout for an escape attempt later. Anything that might give him more information. He counted the doors he could see, rooms he could see, tried to get a rough headcount of the-- the assassins, training down below. 

 

And finally, when Ra’s gave no explanation but describing himself, Bruce asked the question. 

 

“...so why am I here.”

 

\--

 

**Ra’s has stopped at one of the higher points of the compound, as if to look over all he owned like a king.**

 

**“For training.” He said simply, like that was that.**

 

**“The Bruce Wayne of this world was like a son to me. He was to be my successor, to carry on my work. But instead he chose to betray me. Perhaps you won’t be as foolish.”**

 

**He turned then, as if to leave.**

 

**\--**

 

“Of  _ this  _ world?” he said, starting to frown. 

 

(a better expression on his face than that blank acquiescence)

 

\--

 

**He paused. Turned and faced him again.**

 

**“Yes. You and… ‘your’ Superman aren’t from this world. You’re from another. You came here through a rip in time and space. The world you know is cut off from us now. So you should really think about what would be the wisest path to take with your new life.”**

 

**\--**

 

His temper flared and his mouth ran before he could vet it. 

 

“And here I thought you couldn’t get any crazier when you were talking about heading a council of assassins.”

 

\--

 

**… Perhaps the expression on his face was a smile. Perhaps it was something else. But he didn’t address what Bruce said. Instead he looked at the assassins stood behind him and said; “Give him access to our computers. Let him see if I’m lying or not for himself.”**

 

**And again he turned to walk away.**

 

**\--**

 

...it felt like a trap. No one in their goddamn mind would just hand him access to a computer like that in this situation. What he lacked in Clark’s strength and speed he made up with in technology, gadgets, tools-- 

 

_ Surely  _ the people who could (hurtNotKill) Superman wouldn’t be so stupid as to give him his greatest weapon. 

 

But he forced his mouth shut, and watched Ra’s walk away, before turning his eyes (not cold enough for this world) onto the assassins around him.

 

“...Well? Where’s my fucking computer?”

 

\--

 

**… They would lead him down to one of the computers without protest. The only protest was from those who were currently using them, declaring that it was unwise to give him access.**

 

**And yet, they did.**

 

**Ra’s word was all.**

 

**So he would get access to the information they had of this world.**

 

**Little would make sense. At least at first.**

 

**He hadn’t been lying. This wasn’t his world at all. That wasn’t him as Batman, built and scruffy and scarred. That wasn’t his Clark, killed, resurrected--**

 

**Killed.**

 

**_Killed._ **

 

**\--**

 

That wasn’t him as Batman. 

 

A rumor.

 

A  _ nightmare _ .

 

(a brand on his skin. It burned as he read the headline, ‘ _ Branded Criminal Murdered By Fellow Inmates.’ _ )

 

His fingers were stiff as he searched his own name. 

 

His real name. 

 

...and he found a man with graying hair, sloshed at a party, an arm around a girl forty years his junior, and hand gripped tight around her waist. 

 

He wanted to vomit. 

 

(...there was nothing he could do while the assassins behind him watched the screens he was using so carefully, but while they were watching the screens, but he still tried. He still tried to slide his hand beneath the computer as they were looking elsewhere, and palm anything that was loose. Anything he might be able to take apart and make into something else. Something he could augment. A weapon.  _ Anything _ .)

 

…

 

He searched recent news for a body in a desert. 

 

…

 

It came up empty. But that meant nothing, he guessed.

 

\--

 

**They would allow him to search for quite awhile, but eventually someone would come by and tell him to get up to be shown to his quarters.**

 

**And they would lead him back down to the nicer part of the compound to a room with only one exit. It was a nice bedroom. Clean sheets, a change of clothes, a private bath, a meal beside the bed.**

 

**Everything he would need to live comfortably.**

 

**\--**

 

...God.

 

Not again. 

 

_ Not again _ .

 

(“he was like a son to me,” Ra’s had said.)

 

…

 

But he wasn’t a kid anymore on his first run-in with assassins. 

 

He checked every goddamn inch of that room. Searched for microphones in every crevice. Cameras in each corner of wood. Anything that would display his movements to Ra’s. Anything that would give him away. 

 

…

 

And there was nothing. 

 

A nice room. A pile of assassins outside the door. 

 

And he was no longer a child, desperate and scrambling to solve a years-old murder. 

 

He knew exactly who had done the killing this time. 

 

And he had nothing he could do about it. 

 

… 

 

He was not a child anymore. 

 

But he crouched by the bedside and covered his mouth and lips with his hands, as if folding them in thought, and squeezed his eyes shut. 

 

And he whispered for Superman.

 

\--

 

**…**

 

**Superman didn’t come. No one came.**

 

**No one but Ra’s.**

 

**After a few hours to let him ‘get comfortable’, Ra’s would return to check on his newest project. The door opened and he stepped through with all the grandiose one might expect from someone who boasted as much as he had.**

 

**“Did you find what you were looking for, young detective?”**

 

**\--**

 

He was still on the floor by his bed. 

 

He hadn’t relinquished his suit. 

 

His jaw tightened as Ra’s came in.

 

He let his glare be answer enough.

 

\--

 

**Ra’s smiled.**

 

**“Have you given some thought to your future?”**

 

**\--**

 

“Go to hell,” Bruce spat.

 

\--

 

**His smile faded. “I would be careful with your words, boy. No one is coming for you. It's time you make a decision.”**

 

**“What will you do? Try and fight my entire league and escape? You won't survive. You're not even half the fighter as this world's Bruce Wayne.”**

 

**\--**

 

This world’s Bruce Wayne put his hand on a girl’s hip at a party. Almost at her crotch. He looked at her with a lecherous smile, and the evidence was right there on thousands of girls, in thousands of photos, published in papers and various poses. And Bruce did not  _ want  _ to be like him. 

 

“Ask me if I  _ care _ ,” he said, rising to his feet, hair in disarray, fists clenched. His stance was habit, even if it wasn’t  _ ‘this world’s’  _ standard. “Only one person’s ever come for me, and you’re the ones who  _ killed him _ .”

 

And he lunged.

 

\--

 

**Ra’s stepped back just as a trio of assassins lunged forward to pin Bruce to the ground.**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce went down, but not without at least a fight. At least one of the assassins would have a bruised side later, but--

 

But he was still on the ground, straining and struggling under the trio, and snarling up at Ra’s. 

 

An untrained Batman. 

 

Wild and rabid like an animal still gaining its legs.

 

\--

 

**Ra's looked down at him, disappointed.**

 

**“You have quite a lot of learning to do, young detective.”**

 

**He turned to leave.**

 

**… The assassins would let him up a moment later.**

 

**\--**

 

“Get  _ back  _ here, coward!” he said, still struggling. 

 

Once the assassins let him up, he still tried to slug the nearest one out. 

 

\--

 

**They slugged him it right in return. A sharp knee right to the stomach. Only once he was down would they leave, the door closed.**

 

**Guarded.**

 

**\--**

 

...once he was down he didn’t get up again. 

 

Heard the door close. 

 

… 

 

He curled onto his side and pressed his eyes shut there on the floor, realizing that even after charging their leader and attacking their assassins, they weren’t going to kill him.

 

They were keeping him alive. In this world where he was something terrible and Clark was dead. 

  
Dead, somewhere, drying out in the desert. 

 

...this time, curled up on the floor, he let himself cry. 

 

(The one person he wasn’t supposed to lose.)

 

He would lay there and indulge in whatever self-pity he could spare, until it ran free, and he found himself There again. In the place he thought he’d finally crawled out of for good. 

 

The fog and gray clung onto the inside of his mind, familiar as an old friend. 

 

...and he stood. 

 

He ate. And he bathed. 

 

And he slept in what remained of his armor, only one last show of defiance as he waited to face the coming day.

 

\--

 

**The day would end. The sun would rise.**

 

**And as soon as it did his room was being invaded. People brought him food and a change of clothes, shoving him awake and forcing him out of bed whether he liked it or not.**

 

**And if he resisted? They made sure he paid for it.**

 

**_“Up.”_ **

 

**_“Eat.”_ **

 

**_“Get dressed.”_ **

 

**_“Move.”_ **

 

**Bruce would be shoved through the motions if he needed to be and taken outside to where the training had been there day before.**

 

**\--**

 

He wouldn't fight it. 

 

He would go alone. 

 

He wasn't There anymore. He'd snuffed out what he could the night before. Shuffled out robotically (pretending to be human) until the first blow landed. 

 

Pain had always been his grounding tool. 

 

Now it worked so well he couldn't escape it. 

 

Forced to be awake and aware through this. 

 

\--

 

**They gave him a bo staff and fought him.**

 

**_“Come for me.”_ **

 

**Knocked him down.**

 

**_“Again.”_ **

 

**Down.**

 

**_“Again.”_ **

 

**_“This is what you're doing wrong. Do it like this. Again.”_ **

 

**… Breaks for food. Water. But otherwise it was nonstop.**

 

**Isn't this what he had wanted originally? To run away? To find someone dangerous to teach him? Didn't he get what he wanted?**

 

**_(And Superman, Clark, didn't come for him, no matter how much he seemed to whisper.)_ **

 

**_\--_ **

 

This is what he had wanted. 

 

To learn how to be someone dangerous. Someone who would ever be caught off guard. A prey clawing its way to becoming a predator. 

 

Someone who would only be controlled by  _ himself.  _

 

And he had stayed behind because he found something better. 

 

(And now it was gone)

 

This wasn't a choice he had made. This wasn't what he wanted. 

 

He hadn't ever wanted to feel this pain again. 

 

He'd  _ finally  _ started to sleep again. To have fewer nightmares about his parents. 

 

Now he saw them gurgling on the street with green knives stabbed through their chests and owls flooding down to take him away while their bodies jerked and writhed, dying on the street. 

 

(He wasn't dead. But he had an idea of what that Talon must have felt like, struggling to breathe with a massive hole in his lungs.)

 

He kept getting up when they told him to. He ate and he drank water. He collected bruises. 

 

And when the first opening came, he attacked his tutor with the force of a rabid animal, biting down on his lips and ripping them off in a mockery of lips he had once kissed. 

 

Let them train him. 

 

But they would not be allowed to forget his anger. 


	3. intermediary chapter to get the gossip

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ba ba ba ba back at the batcave
> 
> (a wild dick appears)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some mention of sex but like.... it's gossip. there is no actual dick except for bruce being a giant dickhole

_Previously:_

_He kept getting up when they told him to. He ate and he drank water. He collected bruises._

 

_And when the first opening came, he attacked his tutor with the force of a rabid animal, biting down on his lips and ripping them off in a mockery of lips he had once kissed._

 

_Let them train him._

 

_But they would not be allowed to forget his anger._

 

_\--  
_

**… It was hard to say if Ra's was disgusted or impressed that this Bruce Wayne was do much more…** **_feral_ ** **than the one he knew. So much less disciplined yet much more eager to lash out.**

**And far away, the man he thought was dead… kind of wished he was.**

**Batman was checking his vitals. The room was really nice. But right now he was puking into a trash can and hating it.**

**“Guuuuhhh.”**

**He looked better by some degree, skin less green and eyes trying to return to their sparkling blue. But there was a long way to go.**

**“Have you found out anything?” He gurgled through it all, watering eyes looking over at the grizzled man.**

**\--**

Bruce had long pulled off the cowl in the comfort of his cave. He was graying at the edges, and had flintier eyes than the on Clark knew, even without the mask, but his hands were still steady on Clark’s shoulders as he vomited.

“That you'll probably be fine, mostly,” he said. “...Cyborg is going to use one of the satellites to boost his search range. But it may take a few days before we know if we’ll have any hits.”

The portal radiation could wear off before they found the younger Batman. Or he could've been somewhere it was hidden, even from space.

Bruce knew Ra’s to like the sun and tropics, but even so, that didn't mean the League had a shortage of caves and underground bunkers that would hide such small radiation readings.

\--

**Clark groaned and spit into the trash before sitting back up. “** **_Days?_ ** **”**

**God that was too long.**

**“What if he can't** **_last_ ** **days?” He asked, and tried not to glare at Bruce. He knew they were trying, but--**

**“Bruce isn't like you. He needs me.”**

**_He was what kept him grounded._ **

**_He was his protection._ **

**_He couldn't fail again._ **

**_\--_ **

Bruce looked over with two eyebrows raised, looking a little curious and a little disbelieving. He handed Clark a washcloth for his mouth and a bottle of water.

“Is he ill?” he asked.

\--

**Clark took them but didn't use them right away. Instead he looked at Bruce's covered wrists, and even though he could see through them if he wanted, he didn't.**

**“... He used to hurt himself. He stopped when we started living together.” He took a mouthful of the water and spit it into the can. Wiped his mouth.**

**“And he isn't as strong as you. Physically.” He could tell that much just by looking at him. “He doesn't fight.”**

**\--**

Bruce found himself frowning.

(There were lots of ways to hurt yourself)

“Not at all?” is what he said, a hint of concern.

There was a line in Ra’s mind, and Bruce knew if this replacement didn't appear to be worth the effort, that other Batman was probably already dead.

...if that were the case, they should still try to recover the body. He could possibly even request it returned by Ra’s, just like that. But they should at least know what they were supposed to be looking for.

\--

**“He knows some self-defense. Tai chi. But he doesn't normally fight. He watches. Makes things.” Clark explained, frowning. He looked more and more worried.**

**\--**

Bruce tried to keep his face sympathetic, but it wasn't really that way to begin with. And it would be easier if he declared Batman dead now, and held out no hope for him. Just the body.

“Perhaps this is too much to expect you to know, but is he actually _good_ at it?”

He'd never known a superman who studied martial arts. And he didn't expect to.

\--

**Clark looked grim. “... Compared to…? A civilian? Yes…”**

**\--**

…

He sighed and turned away again.

“...then this is what I can offer you: if he is still alive, then he will continue to be alive for plenty of time. If not, it was a fast death.”

There was something to be said for that.

“So I hope you're vastly overestimating his fragility.”

\--

**… Clark lunged at him. He didn't have super** **_anything_ ** **right now and he wasn't even sure why he wanted to grab Bruce by the collar and** **_yank_ ** **him, but he tried to anyway.**

**Furious.**

**Furious he would even suggest that he was dead.**

**\--**

Bruce’s collar was grabbed and reacted on instinct.

In another movement, the boy was on the ground on his back, arms pinned behind him.

“...don't behave like an idiot,” he said, voice in Batman’s low growl. “I don't want to see you dead, too.”

\--

**Clark wasn't used to being tossed around without his powers to back him up.**

**It hurt. It really fucking hurt. Ow. The hole in his chest was throbbing. He coughed and didn't struggle then, what little fight sapped out of him.**

**“Don't say he's dead.” He almost whined.**

**_Don't._ **

**_\--_ **

….

Bruce pursed his lips.

“I didn't say that,” he said, voice much lower. Softer. “But you need to hear the possibility.”

…

“Remember the pain you're in now. That was hardly a toss. Understand?”

Pain.

\--

**“That won't matter if he's** **_dead_ ** **.”**

**Who cared about pain if Bruce could be dead somewhere.**

**\--**

Bruce was.

Not good at this.

This _anger._ This very specific anger that could only be felt towards someone who had no idea how good they had it.

And he twisted the boy’s arm.

“ _Idiot_ ,” he hissed. “If he's alive, what do you think he's dealing with right now?”

\--

**“I don't** **_know_ ** **,” Clark growled. “All you've done is mention a** **_name_ ** **that I've never heard of. Then you tell me he might be** **_dead_ ** **because he isn't a** **_fighter_ ** **. I have** **_no idea_ ** **what he's dealing with.”**

**\--**

Bruce twisted it harder, voice cold.

“Yes you do. Use your head, idiot boy. What happened?”

\--

**“** **_Ninjas._ ** **” He hissed.**

**Whatever that meant.**

**\--**

A jerk of the arm in his stranglehold.

“Talk through it,” he snarled. “What _happened?_ All those super senses and you can't pay attention to anything outside your own anger?!”

\--

**“** **_What_ ** **super senses?” He groaned at the yank of his arm.**

**“I** **_don't know_ ** **. I** **_told you_ ** **what I know. I closed my eyes and they were there. Bruce yelled. Then they were** **_gone.”_ **

**_\--_ **

“Good,” Bruce said, voice still rough but anger not mounting in it. He didn't release the arm any, but he didn't pull it tighter. “Now tell me what that _means._ Or did you let him do all the thinking and you're out of practice, now?”

\--

**“** **_Fuck you_ ** **.” He growled again and his eyes flicked red but didn't stay that way despite his anger.**

**\--**

This time, he released the lock on the arm, lifting Clark’s head by the hair and cracking his skull on the concrete floor.

“You've been telling me what _you_ saw. Now tell me. What did _he_ see?”

\--

**Clark made a pained noise and a small bit of blood dripped from his nose.**

**It was getting hard to breath being pinned with his wound pressed into the ground for as long as it was.**

**“How-- how am I supposed to know that? Whu-- what’s wrong with you--”**

**\--**

Bruce yanked him up again, and shoved him to sit up against the cabinets, eyes burning.

He gripped Clark’s chin, forcing him to look up and meet that glare.

“Because you were _there_ . You told us you saw him. You told us what he _did._ Now tell me-- if he was trying to get the knife out of your chest, _what does he know?_ ”

This was _simple._

“I'm not asking you to be psychic. This isn't a fucking riddle. It's _obvious_.”

\--

**His eyes flickered red again, like they wanted to burn Batman’s head right off.**

**“He knows I was hurt.” Clark mumbled out, the blood from his nose running down along his mouth. If Bruce really looked close enough he would see that his wasn’t as perfect as the Superman he knew. Like it had been broken before.**

**\--**

( _If you prick them do they not bleed?_ )

Bruce’s eyes had a light in them, like he'd just found a hope for that goddamn _brain_ in this fucking Kryptonian’s dense skull.

“ _Yes_ ,” he said. “The one thing we know he knows for sure is that before he was taken, he saw you, stabbed, barely moving, and bleeding out, with no way of contacting anyone for help.”

Gentler. He was finally on the right track.

“What conclusion will he draw?”

\--

**Clark’s face went grim again. He looked away.**

**“He’ll think I’m dead.”**

**Bruce’s mind always went to the worst possible scenario.**

**\--**

This Bruce nodded, too.

Hand going gentler, and then pulling away from Clark’s chin. Freeing him. But his eye contact never wavered.

“Correct,” he said, voice finally soft again, even if it was still rougher--worn down by years of abuse. “Whatever is happening, he’s going to be operating under the assumption there is no one coming for him. That his partner is dead. And if he is aware he's in another world, that no one even knows he was taken, or even exists.”

He leaned down. Almost whispering.

“Now tell me. You know him best? What will he do.”

\--

**His eyes came up to meet Batman’s again. There were really only two options, both extreme.**

**“... Give up… or lash out.”**

**There was rarely a middleground with Bruce.**

**\--**

“And what will that look like?” he asked.

There were lots of ways of giving up.

“Suicide? Obedience?”

\--

**His eyes got watery. He tried to blink it away.**

**“... Obedience… I hope…”**

**He actually wasn’t sure.**

**“Biding his time.”**

**\--**

Bruce nodded.

“Good,” he said, and stood. Offered a hand out to Clark. “Then he'll be alive.”

\--

**… Clark hesitated, but did take the offered hand and got to his feet. He wobbled heavily, blood dripping from his nose.**

**\--**

“There you go,” Bruce said, helping him up. Hoisting him back to the cot.

He took the washcloth and dabbed the blood from Clark’s nose, as if he weren’t the one who caused it.

“...can I trust you to not go poking through the cave tonight, or will you need extra company?” he said.

A bit of an offer. Letting Clark have any say in it.

\--

**Clark gave him the oddest look, like the guy was insane.**

**“I don’t think I** **_want_ ** **to know what the rest of your cave is like.”**

**Fucking** **_madman_ ** **.**

**\--**

Batman cracked a smile.

The first fucking person to respect his privacy.

“You have no idea how much I usually have to convince people of that.”

And this one had only really seen the hanger and medical wing they were in now.

He turned and washed off his hands. Set the cloth in the sink to rinse.

Checked the time.

He would be late again.

He just sighed and shed the rest of his armor, tossing it in the locker nearby, pulling off his under armor and swapping it for one of the basic button-downs he kept down here for avoiding bringing anything of the Bat’s upstairs.

Quick changes.

\--

**“I already live in a Batman cave.” He explained, and did watch Bruce change with only a slightly interested expression. Mostly neutral.**

**… Yeah. The Bruce he knew was way nicer to look at. And not even because of the scars this guy had.**

**\--**

Bruce wasn't exactly trying to seduce the child on the medical cot. He was just trying to get to a point where he might be able to look good enough to pull it off.

“Hm. Under the Manor?”

\--

**“Yeah,” Clark said.**

**“Well, not…** **_live._ ** **I live in the manor with him. Kinda.”**

**It was fine if these two knew. What would they do with that information anyway?**

**\--**

Bruce just nodded.

Slicked back his hair in a way that might be eerily familiar on a stranger’s face.

“If anything happens, the secondary cavern under the lake isn't bad.”

He turned to go.

Tossed Clark a cellphone.

“Streaming services are already logged in. Alfred will bring down dinner in about an hour. The contacts are all safe if you get into an emergency. And I _will_ call someone down if you do snoop. All good?”

\--

**Clark looked down at the… plastic… brick Batman had tossed him. He picked it up and turned it around in his hands, completely confused as to what it was.**

**“Streaming…. services?”**

**\--**

…

Bruce paused.

He'd overlooked a vital facet upon finding them from another world, with his similar armor.

“...what year is it, chum?”

\--

**“1987.” Clark said bluntly.**

**\--**

…

“You're fucking me,” he said.

\--

**Clark blinked.**

**“... A version** **_of_ ** **you, yes.”**

**Smartass.**

**\--**

Okay, fine, he walked into that one, but, nice to remind him of the other can of worms--

“--shit, you're _gay_ in 1987.”

\--

**“First publicly gay superheros, I think.” Clark said, with maybe some pride. But it didn't last long.**

**“But ‘Bruce’ and ‘Clark’ are just friends from high school.”**

**\--**

That… that was something. Absolutely.

(Clark was right. They started _so much later_. Clark, anyway-- and Bruce should have still been training--)

“...it's not unwise,” he said, but…

He sighed.

He took the phone back, and got out a tablet instead.

Started moving things around. Put what Clark would need in a folder.

“This is Netflix. It’ll let you watch movies and TV shows. There's a gay channel. Marriage is legal now.”

“Press here to return to the menu. This will work as a phone. This will send written messages. The names of contacts are saved. Only contact Alfred for now, if he's not already in the house. Those three things are all you'll need. They are all in this folder. Questions?”

It would keep him in bed and entertained at least, for a few hours.

\--

**It was… a lot.**

**“Yeah one question.”**

**“What year is it.”**

**\--**

This poor fuck.

“Twenty-twenty,” he said.

He'd crossed a _century line._

\--

**“... One more question.”**

**“How far into space are we.”**

**\--**

Oh boy.

“The government cut space travel in twenty-ten. We have one inhabited satellite. But we've sent robots to mars.”

\--

**He looked like someone had just insulted his Ma.**

**“... That's** **_it?_ ** **No… space colonies??”**

**\--**

“Nope. Found proof of life outside our solar system, though. But no contact.”

He said it nonchalantly, but he was intentional with letting that slip.

They weren't alone.

\--

**“... Your Superman said he knew what we were. That he met our parents.” Clark was eyeing him, calling his bluff.**

**“He looked uncomfortable and now you’re lying.”**

**…**

**“It wasn’t a good meeting, was it?”**

**\--**

…

“No,” Bruce said. “He didn't meet his parents. They weren't any relatives of his.”

“...do you know what that symbol you wear means?”

\--

**“... No. Do you?”**

**He sounded hopeful.**

**\--**

“It's your family’s crest,” he said, voice soft again.

Almost careful. Almost kind.

“It means ‘hope.’”

\--

**Clark’s expression softened and he smiled. “Really.”**

**…**

**“That’s… that’s really nice to know.”**

**…**

**“Thank you.” He looked up at him.**

**\--**

…

Bruce nodded.

Face softer than it had been.

(Orphans had always been His, just as much as Gotham. Just as much as the dark.

And Clark was far, far too much of an orphan. The sole survivor of a genocide.

Not just parentless but his culture cut off at the head.)

“...I can still have someone come over. They'll be better company than me.”

\--

**“Who? Alfred? No thanks.”**

**He said it in a way that implied he an Alfred weren’t exactly** **_chummy_ ** **.**

**\--**

Bruce didn't respond to the tone.

“...no. I was thinking Diana. Or maybe I can haul the kid home by promising to not be here. Hm..”

...it would probably make Alfred happy if he could manage that.

\--

**Clark didn't know who Diana was, but--**

**“‘The kid’?”**

**\--**

“...”

“I have a successor,” he said, face carefully neutral. “He's a good bit more pleasant than me.”

\--

**“... A successor.” He repeated.**

**…**

**“Did you… have a** **_kid_ ** **?” He baulked.**

**\--**

…

“Two,” he said, “yes.”

…

Why was he saying such stupid things to a stranger with Kal’s face?

\--

**Clark's mouth was wide open.**

**“Holy crap. What are their names? Who's the mom?”**

**He seemed** **_excited_ ** **for him. Even if this meant he didn't have kids with this Superman because** **_it didn't work like that anyway._ **

**\--**

...it was strange. This excitement.

This wide-eyed wonder. Support?

It almost took him aback. But-- no.

He supposed it made sense.

This boy’s Bruce didn't destroy anything he touched. But Bruce couldn't make his expression reflect back at joy.

(Maybe Clark proved men were still good, but it was hard to say what twenty years in Gotham would do.)

“...there isn't a mother,” he said instead. “They were orphans.”

\--

**Some of his excitement died, but maybe it was replaced.**

**Adopted.**

**Like him.**

**“Oh… well. That's very you.” He laughed, “That's good. What are their names?”**

**\--**

…

“Richard. He goes by ‘Dick,’ usually.”

…

“The other isn't around anymore.”

\--

**There went the smile.**

**“... Oh. I'm sorry.”**

**Keep the topic moving towards something good. Bruce always did dwell really hard on the bad. This one might not be much different.**

**“How old is Dick?”**

**\--**

…

“Late twenties. Not much older than you.”

\--

**“... I don’t think I’d mind meeting him,” Clark grinned. “If the offer still stands.”**

**\--**

Bruce sighed. But nodded.

“...if I can get ahold of him, I'll ask him to come in. He's always been more of a superman guy.”

He pulled out his cell and left again.

He was going to go get drunk as soon as he hit the gala, he could tell.

\--

**“Good taste.” Clark said after him, but otherwise let him go.**

**He looked back down at the tablet.**

**‘Netflix.’**

**Right.**

**\--**

It automatically brought up a pretty large selection of….. stuff! That was for sure.

He would be left to rest and recover in the cave on his own for a while, while Bruce attended the gala and Cyborg swept for traces of his Batman.

…

It would be upwards of an hour before another heartbeat entered the otherwise silent cave.

\--

**Clark wouldn't even notice the heartbeat. It wasn't until he could hear the footsteps that he paused his video (space exploration) to strain his ears and try to determine who it was.**

**He had nearly forgot about the visit.**

**\--**

The footsteps were faint, like something was muffling them. Between the footsteps and the heartbeat, the smell of food came first.

“Hey,” said the young man in the doorway, tall and with windswept hair and bright blue eyes. He held a grocery bag in one hand. “Teenaged superman from the past?”

\--

**Clark looked up at him.**

**… He was kinda cute.**

**(** **_No. This was Bruce's kid. Gross, Clark.)_ **

**“... That'd be me. You're Dick?”**

**Clark was still a bit green, veins still standing out on his skin, but he didn't look like he was on death's door anymore.**

**\--**

“Yep,” he said, extending an arm to shake and inviting himself in. “You like burritos?”

He was in a biker uniform it seemed. Leather and blue.

\--

**Clark shook his hand and smiled. “Yeah. Just hope I can keep it down.”**

**Everything was coming up lately. Poisoning.**

**\--**

Dick tossed him a wrapped up burrito.

“Happens to the best of us,” he said.

\--

**“Thanks,” he said, taking the burrito and starting to unwrap it.**

**“... So. Bruce's son. That must be… something.”**

**He seemed almost sympathetic.**

**\--**

“Ward,” Dick said, sitting down on the cop beside Clark without ceremony, popping open a glass bottle of coke and handing it over before taking a plastic one out for himself.

He figured he should stick with giving the stranger some non-altered flavors.

“He's way worse to adults,” Dick said, drinking. “But I am shockingly well adjusted, if I may say so myself.”

\--

**Ah. Ward. Okay.**

**“Wish you woulda told me that earlier. He ended up choking me into the floor.” He opened up his soda before eating any of the burrito, smacking his lips.**

**Still tasted some puke. Ew.**

**\--**

Dick raised his eyebrows, looking petty surprised.

“What'd you do to deserve that?”

(‘Deserve,’ he said, like it was fine to choke people, but only sometimes.)

\--

**“... I grabbed for him when he said Bruce-- my Bruce-- might be dead. And then he spent 10 minutes grumbling at me and shoving me into the ground.”**

**He ate some burrito.**

**\--**

Dick laughed at that.

It was a bright sound.

Easy and unstrained.

\--

**It was cute. He found himself smiling as he took another bite.**

**“He's way grumpier than the one I know. I don't know if it's because he's older or what, but… yikes.”**

**\--**

“Oh yeah?” Dick said, absolutely not protesting the ‘yikes.’ “What's yours like?”

\--

**“Smart,” was the first thing Clark said without even thinking about it. “... Quiet. Withdrawn.”**

**He smirked, “A smartass.”**

**\--**

Dick took a large bite of burrito and talked through it. “But not a shithead?”

\--

**“Mmmmm…” Clark narrowed his eyes and then made ‘a little bit’ gesture with his fingers.**

**\--**

Dick snorted.

“Guess it wouldn't be him otherwise.”

\--

**Clark huffed.**

**“... So how long have you known him?”**

**\--**

“Since I was nine,” he said, pausing to take another swig. “He came down while they were cleaning up my parents’ bodies and got the shock blanket over me. Took me home that night.”

He glanced over at Clark again. “And you? No mutual murder attempts, right?”

\--

**“Oh. Wow.”**

**He blinked, “Wait, what? No? We went to the same high school.”**

**\--**

Dick looked at him like Clark had just handed him the world on a silver platter.

“ _Did he have acne?_ ”

\--

**“Covered it with makeup.” Clark grinned, like he knew** **_exactly_ ** **what kind of dirt Dick was thinking of right now.**

**\--**

Dick clenched a fist and whispered to himself, “ _I knew no one could always look like that._ ”

\--

**Clark laughed, “Yeah he cheated. Even when he'd come visit the farm he would cover it up. I think it's just like an automatic thing for him.”**

**Hiding the flaws.**

**\--**

Dick huffed, settling down and rolling his eyes. “If only he'd start listening to critique instead of pretending he had nothing to work on, huh.”

He reached up and rubbed his cheek, and let a little of his own makeup smear onto his hand.

\--

**Clark watched, “Sometimes he's too proud to admit that.”**

**\--**

Dick glanced at him sideways. “Be glad you got one who’s a ‘ _sometimes_ too proud,’” he said.

\--

**“It's pretty rare.” Clark said, although it had affection tied to it. Like he loved Bruce even for his flaws, no matter how aggravating.**

**“... How long has** **_this_ ** **Superman known him?”**

**\--**

…

The smile was a little wobbly, now.

“...bit over three years, technically,” Dick said.

Drank.

\--

**“... That's it?”**

**He sounded a little surprised.**

**\--**

Dick nodded.

Bruce was old.

Clark was… younger. But still.

“...they knew _of_ each other for longer. But it's been maybe two years they've actually gotten along. It's not a great story from what I've heard secondhand.”

\--

**He deflated a bit.**

**… Then he ate more burrito. “No wonder he's grumpy, he's had a lifetime of bad sex.”**

**\--**

Dick started choking on his burrito.

\--

**Clark was trying** **_very hard_ ** **to not smile or laugh.**

**He ended up just choking on his too, turning away and trying to clear his throat.**

**\--**

….if nothing else, Dick would lighten Clark’s mood a little. And maybe that's why Bruce called him in. 

An expert on bringing light into dark places. At making people laugh in the worst moments. 

The boost wouldn't last forever, but it would last long enough that the young Superman survived the next three weeks. 

Now they just had to hope his Batman had done the same. 

“We found them.”


	4. rescue attempt #1

_Previously:_

 

_"We found them."_

 

\--

**Three weeks of bed rest and sun lamps had done wonders for Clark. A lot of his powers were back, although not to their full potential. His skin was pale for him but not green, his eyes were blue, the stitches had come out. Now he was still mostly just tired, eyes a little drawn and hair unkempt along with the rest of him. He hadn't been shaving and spent more time than usual sleeping, so he still didn't look good best.**

 

**And he would always have a scar.**

 

**“Wh--where?” Clark asked nearly jumping out of his bed.**

 

**\--**

 

“Settle,” Bruce said, holding out a hand. “Are you going to fly out the window once I say, or are you going to stick around and listen to the plan?”

 

He'd not yet been well convinced of Clark’s ability to obey orders, but they hadn't had… incidents like the first day. 

 

His own Superman still frequented the house. Checking in between watching over Metropolis and a daylife of his own. 

 

\--

 

**Clark swallowed and… reluctantly sat back down.**

 

**“... What's the plan?”**

 

**\--**

 

...Bruce’s mouth was still severe, but he was glad Clark was improving. 

 

“...a stealth reconnaissance is not going to be possible,” he said. “But we also can't go in fists flying. So, unfortunately, I’m going to go up to the front door and knock.”

 

\--

 

**Clark stared.**

 

**“What.”**

 

**\--**

 

He waved it off.

 

(He wasn't Clark’s Bruce. He was used to going in alone.)

 

“While I'm doing that, Diana will search the compound for your Batman and extract him. She's already agreed to this.”

 

He'd known for long enough to make a plan. 

 

“That should go smoothly enough if they've been intending for him to not exist as a person and haven't expected a rescue. We won't assume that. Diana is still the best person to survive that scenario and get him out alive.”

 

He would be drawing Ra’s attention himself. 

 

\--

 

**Clark listened. Patient. But--**

 

**“What about me? What if he won't go with Diana? He doesn't know her. He doesn't know I'm** **_alive.”_ **

 

**_\--_ **

 

Bruce didn't shoot him down immediately, and that was a sign of  _ something  _ at least. 

 

(Solidarity?)

 

“And why, exactly, should we let you go into a fortress swarming with ninja who already almost killed you once?” 

 

\--

 

**“Because he's** **_my_ ** **Bruce.” Clark said, trying not to be angry.**

 

**“I'm not saying I'll go off on my own, but--...” He took a breath.**

 

**“** **_Please.”_ **

 

**_\--_ **

 

…

 

Bruce sighed. 

 

Rubbed his face. 

 

“The right answer is ‘because you can speed up the process by zeroing in on his heartbeat and search for traps using x-ray vision,’” he said, still rubbing his tired eyes. “But understand that if you stray  _ one foot  _ from Diana, I will have her hurtle you into the  _ sun  _ if we survive this.”

 

\--

 

**… He smiled a little. “You know the sun will just make me feel** **_better,_ ** **right?”**

 

**“But… thank you.”**

 

**\--**

 

“Thank me by not letting your brain go to rot,” he said, which was his way of letting Clark know he  _ knew  _ Clark was smart and wasn't letting him get away with just letting Batman do all the thinking. 

 

“Now get up. We’re meeting Diana partway. Flash is our emergency extraction, but I absolutely do not want to have to use him in this situation.”

 

He led Clark out of the infirmary to the plane. 

 

Gave him a suit with enough body armor to hopefully stop a second, similar kind of knife, though the shield wasn't at that moment present. 

 

\--

 

**Clark rolled his eyes and tried to let that pass. This Bruce really just loved insulting people's intelligence didn't he?**

 

**He got up and followed, putting on the armor.**

 

**“Your Superman not a part of this?”**

 

**\--**

 

“Absolutely not,” he said, even firmer than usually. 

 

And then he seemed to catch that the way he said that might actually make him seem like he  _ cared _ . And it. Just made sense. 

 

“...he doesn't have anything at stake right now. And his presence wouldn't do much more than place him in unnecessary risk.”

 

\--

 

**Clark did eye him a little harder. Like he was thinking or studying him.**

 

**Hm.**

 

**“Fair enough.” Was all he said though hand finished putting on his temporary armor.**

 

**\--**

 

(Maybe Clark was too used to protecting Batman. 

 

This Batman was… not being protected at all. But there was  _ someone  _ desperately trying to not get this team killed again.)

 

...he just nodded. Got them to the plane. 

 

Diana met them in DC. A tall woman with rippling muscles and a dashing business suit. 

 

She smiled as she greeted Clark before changing into her own uniform. 

 

“Remember she's protecting you. Not the other way around,” he said. “Bullets won't hurt her, so don't do anything stupid.”

 

(Especially if the bullets were green.)

 

\--

 

**Clark was a little puppy struck meeting Diana. Who wouldn't be? She was strong and gorgeous. Still, his primary focus was on saving Bruce.**

 

**He had to be alive. He couldn't be dead. That just** **_wasn't allowed to happen._ **

 

**…**

 

**Ra's would know way ahead of time that Batman would arrive, because of course he did. He was** **_Ra’s Al Ghul._ **

 

**His** **_new_ ** **Batman was escorted down into the deeper parts of the complex ahead of time and guarded.**

 

**\--**

 

Of course he did. Bruce never expected to catch him off guard. 

 

He still air dropped Diana and Clark out as subtley as he could some miles out to make their own way to the complex. 

 

Diana had borne his puppy-love with patience, but nonetheless was  _ quite  _ a bit more comfortable when he refocused. She was not unaware or unopposed, but-- it was a little odd to have her good friend Kal look at her in such a way. 

 

She would guide him in silent flight to the compound, watching with a frown as Bruce did as he said he would, and landed the plane in plain sight in front of the compound. 

 

(His  _ new  _ Batman was told: new training.

 

And he accepted it. Ready to brawl. 

 

He'd started to get more blows in. Started to enjoy cracking their faces under his knuckles.)

 

\--

 

**Clark followed Diana in, staying just behind her like he had promised.**

 

**“... They're keeping Bruce underground.” He said once they were close enough for him to see.**

 

**“Wow. That's a lot of people.”**

 

**\--**

 

Diana smiled grimly. “And they will all be trained. Are you ready, Superman?”

 

It was hard to see that young face and not call him ‘Kal,’ but she understood why they had not told him his first name. 

 

As they watched from their far distance, Batman in his full regalia would descend the plane, approaching the fortress’ gates and hailing. 

 

He knew them. 

 

(Inside, there were just as many groans of pain and agony as there was blows with wood.)

 

\--

 

**“As ready as I'll ever be.” Clark said, but did hesitate.**

 

**“... Will they have that green-- kryptonite?”**

 

**\--**

 

She gave him a sad smile. 

 

“Perhaps,” she said, rising gracefully into the air after a moment. “And that is why our Superman is not with us. Bruce wouldn't dare take the risk.”

 

She touched a hand to his shoulder lightly. 

 

“But I am glad you are here.”

 

\--

 

**Clark gave her his own smile. It was a little nervous now that he had an idea of what might be down below.**

 

**“And I you,” he said. “Thank you for helping us get Bruce back.”**

 

**He could hear his heartbeat.**

 

**That meant he was** **_alive._ **

 

**_\--_ **

 

(His heartbeat was strong.  _ Fast.  _ But strong.)

 

“Of course. It's what teams are for,” Diana said, watching as Bruce entered the compound. “Lead the way.”

 

\--

 

**Clark lead her up into the sky, closer to the compound but still hopefully out of sight. They would know they were there eventually. All it took was radar.**

 

**He tried to describe to Diana as best he could where exactly Bruce was being kept. Down, down deep. Under what looked like a sprawling estate on top had intricate tunnels underneath.**

 

**Getting in would be on Diana. It would be near impossible to sneak in, but it did have multiple entrances leading underground that Clark directed her to. He found the one closest to Bruce and told her where it was.**

 

**Maybe they could get in and get out without** **_too much_ ** **of a fight.**

 

**\--**

 

That was the hope. And if not, at least they had divided some of the forces. 

 

If Ra’s ninja concentrated too much on her and Clark, they would risk losing the Batman. If they concentrated on Batman, then a god and a kryptonian would be left on the loose. 

 

It was a  _ delightful  _ little problem to hand over, even if it was a simple one. 

 

Ra’s weakness was his pride, Bruce had explained. Thinking he knew everyone better than they knew himself. Thinking Bruce wouldn't lower himself to backup would give Diana and Clark some mobility. 

 

And he had also forgot the first rule of being a hitman:

 

Double tap. 

 

Diana slid into the window nearest the passageway and clobbered two ninja into unconsciousness before they even knew what had happened. 

 

And they were moving. 

 

\--

 

**Clark flew in behind her and it only took a moment for her to see that this Superman differed a lot from her own.**

 

**He dealt with criminals;** **_humans_ ** **, way more than otherworldly creatures. Despite his anger, despite lashing out sometimes, his strength was very restrained.**

 

**Grab them by the arm. Catch the weapon. Twist. Break their wrist. Shove their head into something or give them a punch just enough to knock them out.**

 

**Incapacitate, not kill. Nothing they couldn’t get back up from.**

 

**\--**

 

Batman would approve, at least. 

 

Still, these were far more trained than the average criminal Superman fought, and his strength seemed to do  _ nothing  _ to intimidate them. 

 

They didn't have kryptonite on them, not these petty guards, but they stared his strength in the face unflinching. 

 

Unafraid of fighting far above their league. 

 

The worst was trying to stop them from sounding the alarm. More than a few, Diana had to lasso and haul back before putting them to ‘sleep.’

 

But if a few were killed, she was not Batman. 

 

She was simply trying to respect the wishes he held. 

 

But that did not mean it was always possible, and the two young heroes getting out undetected were her first priority over avoiding snapping an assassin’s neck. 

 

“How much further?”

 

She could hear faint fighting further up. Training?

 

\--

 

**“Not much. Up ahead, left, through the first entrance on the right.” Clark said, and… tried not to comment about whenever he could hear one of the guards stop breathing.**

 

**This wasn’t time for lecture.**

 

**\--**

 

She nodded and marched forward. 

 

Two more sets of guards. 

 

And she ripped the door off its hinges. 

 

\--

 

**Inside was another training arena, but they had heard them coming.**

 

**One assassin had a knife to Bruce's throat. There had definitely been a struggle, one of the ninjas down but others doting the inside.**

 

**And Clark saw Bruce and tried to meet his eyes.**

 

**_I'm here._ **

 

**_\--_ **

...Bruce’s eyes were dark. 

 

His bangs had grown in the short time, and were now in his face and unruly. He'd stopped trying to comb it, barely washed it out. He had finally had to surrender his armor and wear the garments of the League laid out for him. Now they were blood-speckled as everything else. 

 

His skin was covered in bruises. His old scar was raised and irritated. 

 

And he didn't seem to care about the knife at his throat, his head lolling back against his captor’s shoulder, as if exhausted. Resting.

 

...and he saw the door break open and the two intruders take in the scene the ninja had made. 

 

And he decided he would break it, if only out of spite. 

 

He head lolling back, he opened his mouth, and bit through his captor’s cheek, grabbing the knife with one hand, and the other arm elbowing him in the neck. 

 

_ Shouldn't have focused somewhere else. _

 

\--

 

**The assassin yelled in pain before gurgling from the elbow to their neck.**

 

**And then Clark was there, snapping the arm that held the knife so it would drop and wrapping an arm around Bruce.**

 

**They had worked out a routine for this sort of thing. He would grab Bruce and that would be his cue to let go of his captor so Clark could launch them away.**

 

**Get him safe.**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce threw the captor into Clark, using him as a body shield, jerking his way out of the dangerous grip. 

 

He rolled to land in a crouch, teeth bloody and barred, waiting for the next try to grapple him. 

 

He was  _ acutely  _ aware of the woman taking what ninja were there down. Some didn't survive the blow. 

 

But that was what they did in this place. He'd lost track of days, but he knew it  _ was  _ days ago he'd had to see his first public execution. 

 

\--

 

**Clark grabbed them roughly once he knew Bruce was free and slammed them into the ground.**

 

**They wouldn't be getting up anytime soon.**

 

**It was a mess. Some were going for Diana, some went for Clark, and others still reached for Bruce.**

 

**None of them used deadly force against him, but the other two were fair game.**

 

**They tried to gang up against Bruce again, knowing that was his weakness, but Clark was acting as guard as much as he could. For every one that got to Bruce another two would fall.**

 

**And they did fall.**

 

**Even if one was approaching where Clark couldn't reach, that's what his heat vision was for.**

 

**It had come a long way.**

 

**No longer did it burn people in half. Although it** **_did_ ** **burn them, it was more of a push back than anything else.**

 

**\--**

 

By the time they had worked the room, it had become clear all the same. 

 

To Diana, watching them, at least. 

 

While Clark was trying to defend Bruce by keeping close--

 

Bruce did not look happy about it. 

 

If anything, he was fighting to get  _ away  _ from Clark. 

 

He'd snatched the knife from the broken, bleeding man who’s held him by the throat, and gashed at anyone who came near him. 

 

And when there was no one left, he was crouching, and bloody, and aiming the knife towards Clark. 

 

\--

 

**It was hard to say if Clark had noticed it and was just ignoring it to make sure Bruce stayed safe or just didn't notice it. Either way he clearly didn't expect the knife to be thrust at him.**

 

**It cut into the armor, but that was where it stopped. As soon as it landed at his skin it went no further, and Clark was looking at him with wide eyes.**

 

**Bright blue and framed by unkempt hair and a beard, but still Clark.**

 

**It didn't hurt physically, but he felt his heart twist.**

 

**“Bruce?” he whispered out in shock.**

 

**\--**

 

(Clark was dead.) 

 

(Anything else was just a cruel joke. Like Ra’s saying he was helping. Like saying he loved Bruce  _ like a son _ , when Bruce knew exactly what his father had been.)

 

When the knife only skittered off the skin, Bruce grit his teeth and changed tactics, realizing that of  _ course _ if they would find a way to use Clark’s heat vision, they would find a way to mimic his skin. 

 

So he twisted out of the way again, away from those  _ awful  _ eyes watching him, and bolted to the door to escape, when the woman slammed it shut, a sad look on her face. 

 

“Bruce…” she said softly. 

 

\--

 

**“It's me.” Clark said, walking closer, arms outstretched. “I know what it looked like but I lived. We're here to get you. I'm sorry it took so long.”**

 

**Pleading. Sorry.**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce looked  _ furious.  _

 

No hiding his emotions. No dampening them down. That took energy he didn't fucking  _ have  _ here if he didn't want to get beaten into the ground. 

 

“Take your fucking magic trick and tell Ra’s to go  _ shove it up his ass _ , okay!?” 

 

He hadn't really expected them to try and mock Clark like this, but the fucking  _ indignation  _ that they would think he'd  _ believe  _ it--

 

\--

 

**“No magic! I swear!” Clark begged, taking a step closer.**

 

**He started to pull the armor off his chest so Bruce could see the scar. “Look! It’s healed!”**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce backed away with each step, circling, not letting himself get backed into a corner. 

 

He still clutched the knife. Not giving up the first effortlessly dangerous weapon he’d finally got his hands on. 

 

“Open it back up and choke on it.”

 

Diana watched with growing distress, and with a timer counting down in her head of how long Bruce might be able to keep the League busy by talking before one of their unconscious woke and sounded the alarm. 

 

And they did not have time for this. 

 

The lasso snapped around Bruce’s middle and bound one arm to his side. 

 

He snarled and tried to jerk away. 

 

And Diana threw the rope to Clark. 

 

\--

 

**Clark didn’t know what the rope was, but he could tell it wasn’t just a plain rope even before he held it in his hands.**

 

**And when he did he felt everything swarming around Bruce’s head and heart.**

 

**It was awful.**

 

**“It’s me. It’s me, Bruce. Please. We have to go.” He begged again, and Bruce would feel that what he was saying was true. But even so he started to reel it in, to get closer just in case they needed to bail.**

 

**His voice was wavering now. “It’s me and you** **_know_ ** **I would never abandon you. I promised you.”**

 

**\--**

 

Clark held the rope, and the knife slipped from Bruce’s fingers. 

 

He stumbled forward with the tug, but didn't come forward on his own. Staring. 

 

Eyes wide. Bloody mouth agape. 

 

“...Clark…?” he breathed. 

 

\--

 

**His eyes stung. He started to walk forward, rope still in his hand but not forcing Bruce to stay still or come closer.**

 

**“It’s me.” Clark said, voice choking a little. “You kissed me in the high school bathroom and we didn’t talk for two months. I had to save your butt** **_twice_ ** **from the Court of Owls. I flew to Paris just to spend** **_one night_ ** **with you.”**

 

**He hoped these things helped prove it, and the rope would tell him in his heart that it was all true.**

 

**“I’m here.”**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce could feel it all over again. And, like an echo, he could feel Clark talking about those things-- the two months isolated, hating Gotham more than anywhere. Terror at hearing Bruce’s voice calling for him from the ground. The effort that ten hour flight had taken from even someone like Clark when he was young--

 

Like echoes in his chest. 

 

(And in his chest: the knot of isolation and anger and  _ hatred _ , loosening, curling into something like hope. And renewed terror. 

 

Clark would feel that too.)

 

“You can't be here,” he whispered, suddenly trembling. “I don't know what they did the first time, I can't beat them, you can't  _ be here _ \--”

 

“--and we will leave if you come with us,” Diana said from the door. 

 

\--

 

**Clark closed the distance between them but didn’t touch him yet. “We have to go, Bruce. I know you’re scared, but we need to leave. We need to get you out of here. Please trust us at least for that?”**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce nodded, still shaking. 

 

( _ Clark was alive that meant he could be lost again _ )

 

He looked towards he woman blocking the door. 

 

She opened it up, and held out her hand for the rope. 

 

\--

 

**Clark reached out and pulled the rope off Bruce before handing it over, then hesitantly reached for Bruce’s hand.**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce’s hand twisted as though electrocuted at the touch, even though he didn't want or try to pull away. 

 

He was so hot and sweaty and covered in bruises and blood splatter. 

 

He shoved his wrist towards Clark instead. 

 

No fingers. No palm. 

 

Wrist could handle it, though. 

 

Trying. 

 

\--

 

**Clark smiled and took his wrist. “I might have to grab you and fly at some point, so be ready for that.”**

 

**Touching.**

 

**Then he turned to Diana, “Okay.”**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce said, “I'll try not to bite you. I've gotten mouthy.”

 

Like three weeks hadn't happened. 

 

(The rope was gone but his head was still swimming.)

 

Diana opened the door a crack to peer out before leading them down the hall, passed the rows of unconscious ninja and back up to their extraction. 

 

\--

 

**“Please don’t. You’ll break your teeth.”**

 

**He could have made a joke about Bruce being mouthy, but… not the time.**

 

**He ran out behind Diana, stepping around all the unconscious ninjas that littered the floor.**

 

**“Do you think Batman is alright?”**

 

**\--**

 

(Bruce’s throat tightened up. Dry.)

 

“He will be fine,” she said. Then frowned. “...I only hope he escapes before they realize Bruce is gone.”

 

\--

 

**…**

 

**Clark’s eyes glowed blue as he looked up to try and pinpoint where Bruce was and what the situation above ground was like.**

 

**\--**

 

Above ground there was… a crowd, gathered around a central area. 

 

And Bruce was fighting, shirtless, with two curved knives, against an older man with a nineteen pack and a sword. 

 

\--

 

**“He’s fighting someone.” Clark said, looking up and watching while they continued through the tunnels. “There’s weapons involved.”**

 

**“Should we be worried?”**

 

**\--**

 

Diana frowned a little. “Just one person?”

 

_ That  _ didn't sound like Batman at all. 

 

\--

 

**“Yeah. He’s fighting an older guy with swords. No one else is bothering them, but they’re there watching.”**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce’s pupils blew wide and his head snapped to where Clark was looking, as if he could've seen it himself. 

 

“He's not going to make it,” he whispered, terror in his voice. 

 

He'd seen Ra’s fight  _ once _ .

 

He's not even sure if it could be called a fight, the way a man had been there one moment, and ribbons of flesh were there the next. ( _ Public executions.  _ He didn't want to know why or if Ra’s always did them himself--) He didn't need to know anything about swords to know someone who should never be allowed near them, for the safety of everyone involved. 

 

\--

 

**Clark’s gaze snapped down to look at Bruce.**

 

**“What? Why?”**

 

**Then to Diana. This was her world.**

 

**\--**

 

“That's Ra’s,” Bruce whispered. 

 

(Fear came before humility.)

 

Diana shook her head sharply at Clark’s gaze. 

 

“It is a duel. We will cause more harm than good interfering. Better to fight him one-on-one honorably than to face him with an army. Come. Faster.”

 

\--

 

**“But if it’s a duel won’t one of them die?” Clark asked as they turned the last bend and the door leading to outside still sat ajar.**

 

**\--**

 

She found it in herself to give a grim smile. “You say that as if they would not have tried to kill him regardless. Now--come. Hurry.”

 

She took to the sky, looking back to make sure they were following. 

 

And an arrow struck her in the back. 

 

\--

 

**Clark was just looking to Bruce to tell him he was about to pick him up, feet already off the ground when the arrow landed in Diana’s back.**

 

**“Wonder Woman!” He cried out, and blocked Bruce with his body.**

 

**What happened to being bulletproof?**

 

**\--**

 

Diana fell, for a moment breathless. 

 

And then she landed on her ground-based attacker with a kick to shatter bone. 

 

“ _ Go! _ ” she shouted. 

 

\--

 

**Clark grabbed Bruce up without ceremony and went. He tried to go as fast as he could without hurting Bruce with the speed.**

 

**Get to the rendezvous point.**

 

**He had only been allowed to tag along if he did as he was told, and right now he wanted nothing more in the world than to get Bruce somewhere safe.**

 

**\--**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm just fuckin w ya with the title. as if we'd manage to write more than one attempt lol


	5. bruce wants to beat bruce with a garden hose but what else is new

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> talk talk talkin a lot but it's just talk (gotta love how it's somehow all on me)

Stiff as a rod, Bruce clutched Clark, hiding his face in the armored shoulder to try and protect himself from the wind. 

 

He didn't ask where they were going. 

 

He didn't ask where they had taken him from, or how they'd found him. 

 

He just held on, clenching his teeth and letting the wind block out and of the fighting below. 

 

\--

 

**It was a few minutes of flying as fast as he could safely before Clark started to slow down and look around to make sure they hadn't been tracked. He scanned the ground to make sure no one was around, that they were alone at the meet up spot before slowly landing.**

 

**“... You okay?”**

 

**\--**

 

...Bruce was shaking in his arms as he descended. 

 

But he nodded. 

 

\--

 

**Once he landed he tentatively set Bruce on his own feet again.**

 

**“... I'm sorry it took so long to come get you.”**

 

**\--**

 

...Bruce shook his head. 

 

He didn't support himself with his own feet. Still slumped against Clark. 

 

“Shut up…” he said.

 

\--

 

**Clark sighed, his voice shaking.**

 

**He had thought Bruce was dead too.**

 

**He didn't make him stand, holding him up in his arms and hugging him tight. His breathing got ragged.**

 

**“I was so scared.” He whispered.**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce wasn't sure if he  _ could  _ stand on his own right now. The spite and fury that had kept him going in that place…. 

 

It was gone now. 

 

And left in its place was an exhausted, broken body. 

 

(Pain is the greatest teacher.)

 

“...how?” he croaked. “I saw you dying…”

 

Bleeding out like his parents on the ground. 

 

\--

 

**“... Another Superman found me. Brought me to the Batman of this world. He stitched me up. Put me under sun lamps for three weeks.”**

 

**“It was… I thought I was going to die too…”**

 

**\--**

 

….Bruce felt his shakes turn into tremors. 

 

He would've been left there. 

 

His nightmare vision of the future would have been real, wouldn't it?

 

\--

 

**“It's okay,” Clark said, giving him a squeeze. “I'm** **_alive._ ** **I'm here.”**

 

**He reached up to maybe stroke his hair.**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce’s hair was matted and gross. 

 

He flinched down at the touch, not meaning to. Bit his cheeks to try and stop. 

 

...he nodded again. 

 

(Clark said it had been three weeks?)

 

( _ IT HAD ONLY BEEN THREE WEEKS? _ )

 

… “I need to sit down…” he said, lightheaded all of a sudden. 

 

(In the distance, a plane’s engine was churning too quietly for normal ears.)

 

\--

 

**“... Okay. They're coming though, so… might have to fly you up again.” He warned, but did guide Bruce to the ground.**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce took a deep breath, nodding, and sunk down until he could pull away from Clark without falling over. 

 

He was just… dizzy. That was all.

 

He wouldn't complain when Clark did have to fly them up to the dark shape above them. 

 

He was just doing badly. 

 

...and then he was in the presence of other heroes, and he was doing even worse. 

 

Batman had one arm in a loose sling, and was currently putting a plaster on Diana’s back where the arrow had hit her, but not shot right through her. Just embedded. 

 

Other than faintly smoking hair, she was fine. 

 

\--

 

**Clark flew him up and found an empty seat to set Bruce down in.**

 

**“So that went… well?”**

 

**No one looked** **_gravely_ ** **injured at least. But he didn't know what it normally looked like after something like this.**

 

**\--**

 

Batman gave a grunt that was probably acquiescence. 

 

“We got what we came for,” he said. And his eyes turned to the young, battered version of himself. 

 

He hadn't seen him yet. 

 

...and once he had, he decided it was… bad. 

 

“How much of that blood is yours?”

 

“...mh,” Bruce said, not wanting to look at him. 

 

“...get him on the exam table,” Bruce told Clark. 

 

\--

 

**Clark… hesitated. Now that** **_his_ ** **Bruce was here, it was like the authority of one simply outweighed the other. Even if the one he listened to more was younger.**

 

**Even so he scanned Bruce with his eyes to see for himself how hurt he was before reaching down for him again to help him up.**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce did  _ not  _ want to be examined, but he was still weak from the fight giving out of him at the realization Clark was alive, and it cost him nothing to glare as the older version approached. 

 

It felt like there wasn't an inch of skin that hadn't gotten hit somehow these last three weeks, and collapse wasn't an option to get any reprieve. His bruises had stacked on top of each other, strained muscles simply worked into compliance and a terrible batch of potion work when an injury was more serious. 

 

Even to Clark he looked like a wreck under the clothes. 

 

But it did  _ not  _ stop him from hunching up and barring his teeth at Batman as he approached. 

 

“....Ra’s got to you, I see.”

 

\-- 

 

**“C’mon, Bruce.” Clark tried to encourage to get him on the table. “Once it’s over with you can sit and rest. You’re really beat up.”**

 

**“And he’s an asshole but he does a good job.”**

 

**\--**

 

“It's just bruises,” Bruce said, scowling. 

 

“Bruises,” Batman said, “and exhaustion. Whatever he had you eating you're not adjusted to, either. So I'm taking a blood test and getting you on an IV.”

 

Bruce snarled before he could stop it from rising up in his throat. 

 

\--

 

**Diana was watching from afar, the plane on a set course back to the cave already.**

 

**“You’ll feel better after. You know you will.” Clark said, trying to get the logical side of Bruce’s brain to outweigh his emotions.**

 

**\--**

 

Batman stared a while longer, impassive as Clark tried to reason with him. 

 

...and then he sighed. Took off the helmet. Let his hair fall out of place. 

 

(Blue eyes and a lithe build. He looked more like Dick Grayson than Bruce, young, right then. And it was a fucking dagger through the heart, wasn't it?)

 

“What did he tell you?” he said. 

 

He knew what Ra’s was like. 

 

No one with that look in their eyes didn't. 

 

“...you joined them,” was what the boy said. “‘Like a son to him.’

 

It was  _ his  _ fault Ra’s had been interested in them. Had tried to kill Clark and done this to Bruce. 

 

\--

 

**… Clark looked at Batman, but he didn’t seem… too surprised.**

 

**From what he had seen of the man it made some sense.**

 

**\--**

 

“I did,” Batman said. “...is that all it took to get to you?”

 

Bruce lashed out with a fist. 

 

\--

 

**Clark tried to grab it before it could hit Bruce, or at the very least get between them. Not that he didn’t want Bruce to punch Batman, but last time someone had grabbed for him he had ended up slammed into the ground with a bloody nose.**

 

**And like hell if he was going to let Batman do that to Bruce.**

 

**\--**

 

...Batman didn't seem concerned.  But maybe it was that Clark had already caught it, and Bruce was now snarling, “ _ Let me go _ .”

 

“It's fine,” he told Clark. 

 

(He looked too much like Dick. Was this what people meant when they said they could've been blood family?)

 

He didn't touch the kid. 

 

This wasn't pride or recklessness. It was personal, in its way. 

 

“...if you let me hook you up to an IV and agree to stay still for the rest of the flight, I’ll stay out of sight in the cockpit the whole time.”

 

\--

 

**“...” Clark let go of Bruce’s wrist, but he was more watching Batman than his partner.**

 

**Like he didn’t fully trust him not to pin Bruce down or something.**

 

**\--**

 

...

 

Bruce scowled and closed his eyes, and held out his arm. 

 

The needle went into his elbow like nothing. 

 

The rest of the IV was hooked up without ceremony, and true to his word, Batman released him and swept away as soon as it was done. 

 

“I'll leave anything else to you,” he murmured as he passed Diana. 

 

Into the cockpit, and sealing the door. 

 

\--

 

**Diana nodded and said nothing as he left, leaving her and the two boys in the back.**

 

**…**

 

**Now that Bruce was taken care of Clark found the nearest seat to him and sat down, not touching him at all.**

 

**He wasn't even sure what to say. Bruce needed some time to just… parse through what had happened.**

 

**\--**

 

Yeah. 

 

Yeah, he did. 

 

...once he was hooked up and all that was left was the familiar rumble of a plain, he lay down on the medical table and stared up, blank, at the ceiling. 

 

For once, the fog that fell over his brain was a relief. 

 

They were landing before he even knew it, and he was being shuffled out with a rolling IV stand still attached. 

 

\--

 

**Clark still stayed close as they walked out, and a familiar figure was there waiting.**

 

**A much older Superman. Clean-shaven and tall, but maybe not as bulky as the one hovering at Bruce's side.**

 

**His eyes lingered on the young Bruce in particular as they arrived.**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce’s eyes were still dark and glazed over-- he looked like he'd just walked drunk out of a bar brawl with the way he let himself be guided by his own Superman, but his back was straight again. He was on his feet, even if the idea of stairs would have to wait a while. 

 

But even in that condition he felt the eyes on him, and turned to stare back, meeting this world’s Superman’s gaze, his scarred cheek exposed as he turned. 

 

\--

 

**… Wow.**

 

**Superman didn't say anything. He knew little about this Bruce, less than Batman even did. He had stayed away from Clark to keep from overspeaking.**

 

**“... Mission success I see.” Was all he commented to Batman when he came out of the plane with Diana.**

 

**\--**

 

Batman nodded back. Tense. 

 

Didn't look back at the kids. 

 

“All quiet here?” he asked. 

 

\--

 

**Superman nodded, “Nothing to report of note.”**

 

**He watched as the kids headed to the room that had been prepared for Bruce once they brought him back.**

 

**“So… I guess now we figure out how to get them home.”**

 

**\--**

 

Batman sighed. 

 

He glanced between Clark and Diana. 

 

Exhaustion finally filtered across his face. 

 

“Yeah. Let's see if we can.”

 

…

 

Bruce shuffled into the room Clark led him to, and closed the door. 

 

(All kinds of places to keep him. All spartan and with everything needed to stay alive a little longer while he was a kept pet project.)

 

...he reached out numbly, and searched for Clark’s arm. 

 

“Get these clothes off me,” he whispered. 

 

Begged. 

 

\--

 

**Clark obliged. He tried to be gentle, pulling the shirt over Bruce's head and tossing it aside.**

 

**“You wanna shower? Bath?”**

 

**God he looked so messed up. It reminded him of what had happened with the Joker.**

 

**The other time he had failed to protect him.**

 

**\--**

 

“Shower,” he said. It would be faster. 

 

Everything felt raw. 

 

“Come in with me.”

 

He didn't want Clark out of his sight. 

 

\--

 

**“Okay,” Clark said without protest and lead Bruce to the connecting bathroom. He started to run the water and pulled off his own shirt too.**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce’s eyes darted up to the hole in Clark’s chest. 

 

He hiccuped. Holding back a sob. 

 

He wrapped a plastic trash bag from under the sink around the IV before getting in in a rush, anxious to hide his face even if it was still  _ Clark _ .

 

\--

 

**Clark looked down at it and…**

 

**…**

 

**He finished getting undressed.**

 

**He knew exactly what Bruce was feeling. He had felt the same upon seeing the scar on Bruce’s face after it happened.** **_Still_ ** **feeling guilt for not doing more.**

 

**“I know.” Clark said quietly as he stepped in after him and pulled the shower closed.**

 

**\--**

 

Finally naked and any evidence of tears hidden by the water, Bruce shoved his face into Clark’s shoulder and shook. 

 

Bruce had always had scars. Maybe he wasn't as battered as the one from this world, but he'd  _ always  _ borne scars. Letters carved into his skin, desperate attempts to feel, accidents and stupid mistakes--

 

But he was  _ always  _ the one to bear the scars. 

 

And now Clark, smooth and perfect, had been…

 

“They told me you were dead,” he whispered. Shaking. 

 

\--

 

**“They lied.” Clark said, arms holding Bruce gently under the water. He smoothed back his hair, dirty from going unwashed for days under Ra’s.**

 

**“It was bad, but I didn’t die. They told me what it was after I woke up. A crystal. Apparently it’s the only thing that hurts… whatever I am.”**

 

**\--**

 

“Kryptonite,” Bruce muttered, head fallen against Clark as his hair was washed for him. “...it kills Kryptonians.”

 

\--

 

**So that was what that other word meant.**

 

**“... Yeah. How do you know?”**

 

**\--**

 

His throat was tight. 

 

“I didn't believe when he said it was another world,” he said. “...so he brought me to a computer. And let me see.”

 

“...they killed a superman.”

 

\--

 

**Bruce could feel him still.**

 

**“... What?”**

 

**But he had** **_met_ ** **this world’s Superman. Were there two?**

 

**\--**

 

“I don't know,” Bruce said, choking. “I don't  _ know,  _ I only had a few minutes… saying ‘Superman is dead’... they showed the  _ body _ …”

 

\--

 

**“Hey, hey--”**

 

**Clark smoothed back Bruce’s hair and tried to get him to look up at him. “This isn’t our world. It’s not even close to being the same as ours. Just because it happened here doesn’t mean it’ll happen in ours. I promised you I’d always be around.”**

 

**\--**

 

And he'd been so  _ stupid  _ to trust that, even if Clark meant it with all his heart. 

 

“...Batman was branding people,” he whispered under the spray. He felt the mark on his cheek burning. “I was  _ branding  _ people.”

 

\--

 

**“... God.” Clark sighed, like he was surprised but also** **_not really_ ** **.**

 

**“He’s messed up. He saved my life, but he’s--... he’s messed up. He and Superman have only known each other a few years. He even slammed me into the ground when I was still poisoned because I grabbed him after he told me you might be dead.”**

 

**“You’re nothing like him.”**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce went taut, eyes sharpening to their furious ice color. 

 

“ _ He hurt you? _ ”

 

\--

 

**He kind of didn’t want to say ‘yes’, but also…**

 

**“... Yeah. Kept asking questions I had to answer about what happened while yanking my arm and slamming my head into the floor.” Clark obviously didn’t sound too happy about that. He reached up to smooth some of his hair back as it got wet and stuck to his face.**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce looked…  _ murderous. _

 

He was gripping Clark’s shoulders in a white-knuckled hold, teeth grinding, and he was going to kill Batman. 

 

He had spent the last three weeks in agony and Clark had had to suffer from a version of him beating him the same way Bruce had been beaten, and Bruce was going to make him  _ suffer  _ for it. 

 

He turned to storm out of the shower and rip his throat out right then and there.

 

\--

 

**“Bruce…”**

 

**Aaaand he was trying to leave.**

 

**“No, no. Nono, Bruce--” Clark slipped an arm around his middle to try and keep him in the shower. “It’s not worth it, B.”**

 

**\--**

 

“Don't  _ tell  _ me it's not, I'm going to fucking  _ kill him _ .”

 

He'd gone from barely lucid to frothing mad in a matter of minutes, his usually calm exterior mangled from enduring the League. 

 

\--

 

**“Y-you’re not going to kill him.”**

 

**Bruce didn’t kill people.**

 

**“B, you’re hurt. They might be our only ticket home. I’m not saying you can’t scream at him, but please--”**

 

**\--**

 

“I want to  _ hurt him _ ,” Bruce howled against Clark’s grip. 

 

He was shaking. He was  _ done.  _ Aggression and action trained up to the forefront of him. 

 

\--

 

**“If** **_you_ ** **hurt him and he hurts** **_you_ ** **, you** **_know_ ** **I’m going to throw him through every wall of his cave, right?”**

 

**_Don’t make me do that please._ **

 

**\--**

 

Bruce collapsed into shakes again, another little sob working his way up. 

 

“I don't care…” he whispered. “I don't care if he hurts me. Clark…”

 

The next sob was louder. 

 

“Get these off me…”

 

\--

 

**“** **_I_ ** **care. B--”**

 

**His grip shifted from trying to hold him in the shower to just holding him up.**

 

**“Get what off you…?”**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce clutched at his skin in answer, head hanging and shoulders trembling. 

 

The  _ bruises _ . 

 

“Please… I need your hands on me right now…”

 

He needed to forget where it came from. 

 

\--

 

**…**

 

**He didn’t want to while Bruce was so hurt. He hesitated, but did eventually turn the shower off.**

 

**“If you really want.”**

 

**The bed would be more comfortable for him.**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce heard that tone. 

 

Shook his head. 

 

“No, not nice. Not fucking…” he said. “I just…”

 

He just needed a  _ bruise _ .

 

One of Clark’s ones. 

 

“Just a handprint…”

 

Safe. 

 

\--

 

**That was certainly** **_better_ ** **, but…**

 

**He sighed and pressed his hand on Bruce's hip, gripping it.**

 

**_Squeezing_ ** **it.**

 

**Then released.**

 

**It would be a light bruise, but still a bruise.**

 

**\--**

 

That was fine. It was okay. 

 

He sniffed a little, and slumped back against Clark. His hand went down to that place on his hip, and curled against it, like trying to hold a phantom hand. 

 

Clark was there now. Overtop. It was okay. 

 

“Sorry,” he said, throat thick with trying not to fall apart completely. “I just… I just need to pretend, at least…”

 

He couldn't move without some mild pain trying to drag him back down to where he stood. 

 

But at least now he could pretend Clark was the reason why. 

 

“...are you okay? Have you been okay,..?”

 

\--

 

**“It's okay.” Clark said, understanding even if he didn't really** **_like_ ** **the reason. If it helped Bruce deal he would do it.**

 

**…**

 

**“I'm fine now. Just happy you're here. Alive.” He kissed the back of Bruce's neck.**

 

**“I've mostly been in bed puking the last three weeks if I'm honest.” He smirked a little.**

 

**\--**

 

His chest still hitched every few moments, but he managed a smile. 

 

“...I n-never got to nurse you through a sick day, huh…” he said. 

 

\--

 

**“Nope,” he chuckled and kissed the same spot one more time.**

 

**Clark stepped around him and grabbed a towel to help him dry off, wrapping another around himself while he did so.**

 

**“... Kinda made me feel like a lizard. Heat lamps.”**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce’s face was quickly twisting again. “Heat lamps aren't sunlamps, Clark. Don't you have chickens? You should know this.”

 

He dried off obediently. 

 

Stepped out with a few wobbles. 

 

He was still attached to the IV. ...it was good he hadn't run out.

 

\--

 

**“I-- yes I know this, I'm just saying it's a similar concept-- ugh forget it.” He sighed and helped him get the bag off he had wrapped around his IV to keep it dry.**

 

**“Go to bed.” He said with all the annoyed affection he had in him.**

 

**\--**

 

“...come with me,” Bruce replied. 

 

\--

 

**“I am.”**

 

**Clark was already guiding Bruce out of the bathroom towards the bed. “I'm not gonna leave your side anytime soon, don't worry.”**

 

**\--**

 

“Good,” Bruce croaked. 

 

He crawled into be without bothering any with clothes and curled against Clark.

 

And he passed out. 

 

\--

 

**Clark didn't bother with clothes either.**

 

**He climbed into bed and put an arm around Bruce and would stay there as long as he could. He wasn't tired like Bruce was, but he couldn't leave him even for a minute in a state like this.**

 

**\--**

 

...Batman would have an eye on the room. 

 

No audio. To keep it somewhat private. But…

 

(His way of being concerned)

 

“...what do you think?” he asked. To Superman. 

 

\--

 

**Superman had audio though. He had heard Bruce wanting to kill him, seen the freakout.**

 

**“I think emotion isn't a good look on you.” He joked with a huff, looking down at Batman.**

 

**“... What do** **_you_ ** **think?”**

 

**His eyes went back to the monitor, watching them both crawl into bed together and** **_Bruce_ ** **being the one to curl into Clark rather than the other way around.**

 

**\--**

 

“Huh,” Bruce said, a little surprised. “I would've thought you'd like him better.”

 

“...”

 

“...I think Ra’s was on the path to getting what he wanted,” Bruce admitted. “...keep an eye on them.”

 

\--

 

**“Well the cuddling would be nice.” Superman smirked.**

 

**“... What exactly was it that Ra’s wanted?”**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce gave him a flat look. 

 

( _ He  _ wasn't the one who woke up first)

 

“...an heir.”

 

\--

 

**“... Really? You think the kid would really go for it?” Superman seemed surprised.**

 

**\--**

 

“Three weeks and he's a wreck,” Bruce said. “That's lasting pretty long. But it's not lasting.”

 

… then, realizing he might actually need to explain more, he said, “...the first step to cult indoctrination is isolation and helplessness.”

 

\--

 

**“... Did you go through that too?”**

 

**\--**

 

...he folded his hands under his chin and thought of how to answer for a long moment. 

 

“...yes. In a few places.”

 

\--

 

**…**

 

**“In a** **_few_ ** **places?”**

 

**\--**

 

“I have an addictive personality,” he said flatly, joking a little. 

 

(...)

 

He sobered more than usual. 

 

“...Ra’s wasn't the only one I trained under. Just the most thorough.”

 

\--

 

**“... Addicted to self-abuse.” Superman said, trying to be light-hearted about it even though he could tell it was a rough spot for Batman. He gave his shoulder a pat and light squeeze.**

 

**“How well did he do in comparison to you?”**

 

**\--**

 

“In what way?” he asked. He allowed the shoulder squeeze. 

 

He'd gotten better at… casual contact. Since Clark had been around. 

 

“I'm… not sure our situations make a good comparison. I went willingly. I was  _ searching  _ for the point where I broke.”

 

Cults. 

 

Fun. 

 

\--

 

**“Ueh.” Superman mumbled, like the thought itself was gross. “You're kinda messed up, you know that?” he laughed.**

 

**But of course they both knew he was messed up. They both were in their own ways.**

 

**“... I wonder what changed the most to keep him from doing that. Do you think it was little-me?”**

 

**\--**

 

He cracked a smile. 

 

“Do you  _ use  _ your eyes for anything but lasers, Kent?” he asked. 

 

They were staring it right in front of them. On the screen. 

 

A thin, battered Batman clinging to Superman in his sleep. 

 

...he could probably hear them, huh. 

 

\--

 

**“Well I didn't want to seem** **_too_ ** **full of myself.”**

 

**Superman grinned and leaned his elbow on the back of Batman's chair. “But I am pretty great.”**

 

**He gave him that dumb, perfect, toothy smile.**

 

**\--**

 

“I’m going to punch you in your perfect mouth,” Bruce said without heat. Leaning back to look up at him. 

 

\--

 

**“You'll break your hand.” He smiled, leaning closer to him.**

 

**\--**

 

...Bruce grunted that he was probably right. 

 

So he leans up to kiss, instead. 

 

\--

 

**Superman leaned down to meet him and Batman would be able to tell he was smiling through it.**

 

**_Gotcha._ **

 

**\--**

 

...it wouldn't be especially long of a kiss. Wouldn't be especially passionate. They were still working. 

 

But it was there. An olive branch between them. 

 

“You  _ would  _ be aggressively chummy enough to try and be my friend, wouldn't you,” he said, once they had broken apart gently. “...there's going to be retaliation for taking him away, you know.”

 

\--

 

**Even a small kiss was something for Batman. It meant a lot to him he had opened up enough for it.**

 

**“I know. Is there anything I should be aware of** **_before_ ** **they come looking?”**

 

**\--**

 

“...you can probably handle the ninja fine,” he said. “Keep the com open in case some are high ranking enough to hold kryptonite. And whether he has it or not, don't fight Ra’s. If there's a man who can kill you without it, it's him.”

 

…

 

“I'll have to warn Dick…”

 

Family members were always targets.

 

\--

 

**‘** **_If there's a man who can kill you without it, it's him.’_ **

 

**Superman gave him a grim look. “... Really.”**

 

**It wasn't a question. He wasn't doubting Batman.**

 

**But…**

 

**_How._ **

 

**\--**

 

Bruce gave him a. Flat. Look. 

 

“Magic is  _ bullshit,”  _ he said. 

 

\--

 

**…**

 

**…….**

 

**“I know I shouldn't be surprised, we do work with a demigod, but--”**

 

**….**

 

**“Magic is** **_real?”_ **

 

**_\--_ **

 

….

 

Bruce looked like he was currently, at that moment, fighting off a hernia. 

 

“....yes,” he said, voice strangled, after finally accepting a few minutes later that Clark had not known about magic, or it hadn't sunk in. “Or, sufficiently advanced science is indistinguishable from magic. But I don't care. It's  _ bullshit.” _

 

….

 

No, no. He was going to  _ complain  _ about this. 

 

“I studied alchemy for three fucking months and it still makes no more sense to me than it did when I started. It's not my business. It can get the hell out of my town. Do you know how many ‘satanic’ cults Gotham has?  _ Too many.  _ But even  _ one  _ gets their hands on something real and next thing you know you've got verifiable proof of hell, a working relationship with at least one demon, and no idea what to do with that. I  _ hate  _ magic.”

 

\--

 

**… It was nice to watch Bruce… y'know… actually open up and complain about something more than with just a grunt and moving on to something more relevant.**

 

**But maybe it wasn't so shocking that Clark wouldn't know about magic considering his term as ‘hero’ had only been a few years now, and everything he had so far experienced could just be chalked up to advanced technology like Bruce said.**

 

**Either way there was… a lot to unpack from what Bruce had just told him. Hell?** **_Demons?_ ** **So that meant heaven was a thing?**

 

**…**

 

**Later.**

 

**Right now he just looked down at Bruce with an indiscernible expression and said; “Has anyone ever told you that you lead a very interesting life?”**

 

**\--**

 

“Alfred,” Bruce said, “but  _ he  _ isn't one to talk.”

 

\--

 

**Clark huffed.**

 

**…**

 

**“So what you’re telling me is to be prepared for anything.”**

 

**Helpful.**

 

**He took a deep breath. “Want me to stick around for awhile?”**

 

**\--**

 

“I've been telling people that my whole life,” he said. But. Yes. Finally, someone got it. 

 

…

 

He sighed and let his head fall back. 

 

“...it would probably be best to have an extra set of eyes. Though we might be the worst sets of eyes to do it.”

 

\--

 

**Clark nodded.**

 

**…**

 

**“I want to be around once the kid wakes up anyway. He sounded… pretty ready to kick your ass when they were in the shower.”**

 

**Last thing that needed to happen was a brawl.**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce laughed, a little surprised. “Should I be scared?” 

 

He hadn't had the bathroom cameras on. Not that they weren't there. But he had turned them off obligingly. 

 

\--

 

**“Now I don’t know about** **_scared_ ** **,” Clark chuckled. “But little Clark was telling him about how you slammed him into the ground while he was poisoned and little Bruce about lost it.”**

 

**“And if you hurt him you know the other is going to step in.”**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce snorted, like that was a little funny, too. 

 

“I'm not planning on it. Superman was being an exception.”

 

\--

 

**“Why was he an exception?” Clark asked, amused.**

 

**\--**

 

….

 

(Bruce was  _ very aware  _ of his own temper and that Clark had  _ just said  _ emotions were a bad look on him.)

 

“...he got violent at the simple  _ suggestion  _ that Batman might be dead.”

 

\--

 

**“... Hm.” Clark mumbled as if to say he agreed that was definitely a bad reaction. But it wasn’t… too unbelievable.**

 

**“Can’t say I really blame him. And he is young. But…”**

 

**…**

 

**“Anger isn’t a good look on either of us.”**

 

**\--**

 

“...” Bruce nodded. “...He’s been a vigilante too long to risk that kind of reaction to potentially losing a partner,” he said.

 

...and he let his head fall back, and his eyes wander to the ceiling. The spot just below where he knew The Suit was. 

 

…

 

Yeah. 

 

...Superman could not afford that reaction. 

 

\--

 

**... Clark didn’t say anything for a few long moments. He just stared ahead, arms crossed, and thought about the displaced anger he had felt upon his resurrection. How deadly that could have been had Bruce not had the forethought to bring in Lois.**

 

**“I feel like we should address that with them. But I honestly wouldn’t even know where to begin.”**

 

**\--**

 

…

 

“Do either of us know any. Therapists? Not counting Dr. Crane.”

 

He didn’t know if Clark knew who Dr. Crane was. 

 

But just in case he’d heard the incomplete history. 

 

Not Fucking Dr. Crane.

 

\--

 

**He had no idea who that was aside from what he had read in the news.**

 

**“Can’t say I do. Thought about going to therapy once, but what would I tell them? I died and got brought back to life and have nightmares about it?”**

 

**Theirs was a lonely, troubled world that had few healthy outlets.**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce let out a humorless chuckle. 

 

“Yeah… I went when I was a kid for a little. Think it helped?”

 

He looked flatly at Clark. Awaiting  _ that  _ verdict.

 

\--

 

**A hand pat Bruce on the shoulder again.**

 

**“You’re a shining example of mental health.” He beamed.**

 

**\--**

 

“I  _ am _ ,” he said, smiling a little. “Thank you.”

 

\--

 

**It was Clark’s turn to laugh.**

 

**Aaaa they were both so messed up.**

 

**\--**

 

God.    
  


Yeah, they really were. 

 

“Fuck it,” he said, “I can’t drink before patrol. You have to be awake so we can get smashed when I come back.”

 

\--

 

**“You mean I have to be awake so I can watch** **_you_ ** **get smashed.”**

 

**Clark did partake so Bruce would have someone to drink with, but it didn't effect him anymore.**

 

**\--**

 

“You like the taste,” he said, rolling his eyes. 

 

Bruce bought  _ good alcohol _ , damnit.

 

\--

 

**Clark laughed, “I didn't say I didn't.”**

 

**“I'll keep my eye on the kids while you're out. If anything happens I'll let you know. And hey, maybe they could use a drink after everything too.”**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce snorted. 

 

“They don’t even look legal…” he muttered, shaking his head. 

  
( _ kids. _ )

 

He got up and popped some sore joints. 

 

And he got up to go patrol.

 

\--

 

**“** **_Young Bruce_ ** **doesn't look legal, but young Clark is way too hairy but to be.” Clark argued, but let Bruce go.**

 

**“Be safe.”**

 

**\--**

 

“Peach fuzz adds five years,” he said dismissively, as if what was on that boy’s face could be called ‘peach fuzz.’ “And I was  _ born  _ legal.”

 

…

 

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t burn down my house.”

 

…

 

“Be back soon.”

 

...and he was gone.


	6. Booze! Booze! Booze! Booze!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> never have i ever been drunk in my entire goddamn life, but like. maybe don't do alcohol while you're still having to be hooked up to an IV stand. for irl reference.

 

**… Not much would happen while Bruce was out. Clark mostly just glanced at the monitors occasionally and kicked back on his phone.**

 

**The two would sleep well into after Bruce got back, and not wake until Bruce had time to get back in and break out the alcohol.**

 

**\--**

 

...it had been a quiet night. 

 

Bruce was glad for it, for once. He wasn’t always (and he should file that feeling away and get rid of it asap), but tonight, he was. 

 

He stripped down and changed into more comfortable wear, and pulled out some of the good bottles. 

 

Any night became a special occasion when you broke out the good stuff. 

 

Even if you could afford it all the time. Still. You could still have taste.

 

“Upstairs or down here?” he said. “You’ll have to change to go upstairs.”

 

\--

 

**“Do--” Clark started to ask, but stopped himself. “Wait, of course you have monitors upstairs. What the hell am I even thinking.”**

 

**He shook his head, “Upstairs is more comfortable. I'll get changed.”**

 

**Clark walked off to do just that.**

 

**\--**

 

“...yeah, that tends to be where people try to break in from,” Bruce said, but seemed pleased Clark had figured it out before even finishing his question. 

 

Bruce yawned, leaning against one of his processors with the bottles in his arms, waiting for Clark to get back. 

 

… and saw someone else moving out of the corner of his eye, instead. 

 

He stiffened, but… 

 

It was just Superman.

 

The young one. 

 

...the young Batman behind him, circles under his eyes. 

 

“...finally woke up?” he said, lightly.

 

\--

 

**Young Supes seemed rested, but when wasn't he when he was actually healthy?**

 

**They had been loaned better clothes. Clark's was almost a little small for him. It was clear that starting young** **_did_ ** **have** **_some_ ** **affect on his muscles. As for Bruce, he was more fit to wear some of Dick's old clothes that still sat around.**

 

**“Yeah. How long has it been?” Superman asked.**

 

**\--**

 

(well.. He  _ would’ve  _ been more fit for Dick’s clothes, if most of them hadn’t burnt up in the Manor, unfortunately.)

 

Bruce was tired enough he had a momentary pause to do the math before saying, “about five hours. Need food?”

 

Younger Bruce was still hooked to the IV, but it would need changing soon.

 

\--

 

**“Food is probably a good idea.” Clark said, knowing Bruce would do good with some even though he had the IV.**

 

**\--**

 

Batman didn’t say anything in reply, just moved his eyes away from Bruce when he tried to meet them. 

 

And Bruce had the sudden remembrance that the kid had apparently decided to try and attack him while in the shower. 

 

...eh. He wouldn’t be the only one who’d wanted to do that.

 

“Alright. We should have some workout slacks here…”

 

(Jason’s, though. Not Dick’s. 

 

…. He swallowed something hot and acidic in his throat as he pulled out mothballed clothes, and tossed them towards the pair.)

 

“Alfred’s asleep by now. We’ll have to see what’s in the fridge.”

 

Bruce’s cooking was restricted to life-and-death situations.

 

\--

 

**“Okay, thanks.” Superman said, grabbing the slacks as they were tossed over and handing them to his partner.**

 

**Clark came back in at that point. “I can probably cook something up.”**

 

**He had seen Bruce's cooking.**

 

**Hellish.**

 

**\--**

 

Batman tugged on pants, silent still. 

 

There were more letters carved on his shoulders. Didn’t leave any imagination who’d given him the scar on his face. 

 

He glanced over at Clark, still a little unused to seeing the older version of his partner. 

 

Had Ms. Kent taught him how to cook, too?

 

“If there’s nothing they want,” Bruce said, and started to lead them up. 

 

...he became suddenly, viciously aware that Superman hadn’t really explored much of the cave as they moved the first floor up and passed Jason’s suit, the gloves still clutching his staff in its hands. 

 

( _ HA HA  _ it read, just like the carvings on Batman’s back.) 

 

But Bruce moved passed it without comment, and hoped the others would, too.

 

\--

 

**Superman might not have explored, but that wasn't too say he didn't look around.**

**He had seen it awhile ago looking through walls. Had stared at it a long time. Even though he didn't know the exact history behind it, it was similar enough to what was carved in Batman's skin for him to not even** **_want_ ** **to ask about it.**

 

**The Joker was a constant it seemed. A horrible, ugly constant.**

 

**When they got to the steps though he stopped. “Elevator for Bruce?”**

 

**He was too hurt for steps, not to mention the IV.**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce nodded. 

 

Opened the door beside the stairs for the elevator. 

 

He tried to take the stairs when he could manage it. 

 

Small exercises. 

 

But he guessed that the super strength people didn’t  _ want  _ to carry a tiny pole with wheels. Okay.

 

Elevator.

 

\--

 

**Superman went in with Batman and the IV, Clark would use the steps too.**

 

**Once they were all on the main floor heading for the kitchen though, Superman asked something he had been wondering awhile--**

 

**“What happened to the manor?”**

 

**Because he had noticed during his snooping that this definitely wasn't it.**

 

**\--**

 

It  _ definitely  _ wasn’t.

 

Batman stared at the comparatively tiny house around them. First floor frosted glass bedroom? Combination kitchen-livingroom? Only one bath? How did Alfred  _ live _ ?

 

But Bruce said, lightly, “Bomb,” and started setting the alcohol on the counter before digging through the fridge for leftovers.

 

\--

 

**“Oh.”**

 

**…**

 

**“Must've been a big bomb.”**

 

**The manor was** **_huge_ ** **. This actually looked** **_reasonable._ ** **Lavish, but reasonable.**

 

**\--**

 

… “Doesn’t have to be if everything catches fire afterwards,” he said, sighing a little. 

 

He set out some leftovers and slid them over to Superman and Batman, and then slid some bottles towards Clark.

 

“Work it, canopener.”

 

\--

 

**“Oh,” Superman said again, then looked at the leftovers. Alfred food was usually pretty good.**

 

**Clark took the bottles and sighed, “Is that all I am to you?”**

 

**He opened them up.**

 

**\--**

 

“And it’s all you’ll ever be,” he said. 

 

Batman stared at some of the food before sighing. 

 

Slumped down on a chair with his IV, grabbed a fork, and just… ate out of the goddamn tupperware without even warming it up.

 

…

 

Fuck, he’d missed regular food. 

 

\--

 

**Shit, Superman didn’t see any shame in eating out of tupperware. One less thing to wash.**

 

**He ate some too.**

 

**Clark gave Bruce puppy eyes. “Harsh.”**

 

**He handed one back to Bruce.**

 

**\--**

 

...Batman realized as soon as he started to eat that he was  _ ravenous _ .

 

Fuck. 

 

He shoveled food in his mouth as fast as he could swallow it, not caring anymore if Bruce and Clark watched and saw it as weakness.

 

“...yeah, okay. Maybe you were right,” Bruce said. “...that looks like someone who needs a drink.”

 

He turned around and got one of the lighter alcohols from the fridge and set it down for Batman. 

 

“Only because we’re gonna fill your IV anyway and you won’t get dehydrated,” he said.

 

Alfred would’ve  _ massively  _ disapproved, but the kid hadn’t exactly been on pain meds.

 

\--

 

**At least he would be drinking on a full stomach.**

 

**“Told ya.” Clark said, taking a drink of his.**

 

**“What am I then?” Superman asked, watching as a cup was set down for Batman but not him. “The hotter can opener?”**

 

**He gestured for a glass too.**

 

**Clark was doing his best not to spit his drink.**

 

**\--**

 

….Bruce stared down at the table, torn between his instinctive desire to throw Clark under the bus, and the rest of his brain telling him not to call a twenty-three year old ‘hot’. 

 

…

 

He opened the fridge door and poured Superman a glass of milk.

 

\--

 

**Clark fucking lost it.**

 

**Superman stared at it.**

 

**Looked up at Bruce.**

 

**“God I hate you.”**

 

**\--**

 

“That’s fair,” Bruce said. 

 

(Batman was trying to not choke on his food.)

 

\--

 

**Superman gave Batman a look and drank his milk.**

 

**Clark was trying to start** **_breathing_ ** **again.**

 

**“Come on, Bruce. He's been through enough for a drink.”**

 

**\--**

 

…………………

 

“Milk is a drink,” he said. 

 

(Batman choked again.)

 

But Bruce did relent, and pulled out another lite beer for him. 

 

“Fine. But he’s a self-can opener.”

 

\--

 

**“This is why people don't like you,” Clark teased.**

 

**Superman chugged his milk before grabbing the beer. He wiped his milk mustache off with his hand.**

 

**\--**

 

“Don’t sell me short,” Bruce said, watching the kid pick up the bottle.

 

\--

 

**Superman opened the bottle and took a drink before eating his food. Grumpily. Clark meanwhile just shook his head.**

 

**Bruce really wasn’t making getting along with these two easy on himself, was he? Although he thought maybe Batman found it a little amusing.**

 

**\--**

 

Batman did find it… kind of amusing. 

 

But he was still gonna hate the guy. 

 

But as he picked up his own bottle to drink, he froze. 

 

Staring at the ‘best by’ date.

 

“...Clark,” he said, voice soft. “What year is it?”

 

\--

 

**Superman blinked, his anger seeming to be forgotten at the question.**

 

**Oh.**

 

**Right.**

 

**“... 2020.” He said quietly back.**

 

**\--**

 

…

 

Batman pushed the drink back on the table, away from him.

 

“....Just knock me out now.”

 

\--

 

**“Y’know what’s crazy?” Superman asked, but didn’t wait for a reply.**

 

**“Haven’t even colonized space yet.”**

 

**\--**

 

…

 

“I hate this world,” Batman said. 

 

‘Fair,’ Bruce thought.

 

\--

 

**Clark snorted.**

 

**“Right?” Superman said. “... Gay marriage is legal though.”**

 

**Not that he wanted to get married to Batman really, but… it was a nice thought.**

 

**\--**

 

….Batman hesitated. Considering that. 

 

“...that’s good,” he finally settled on, voice soft. 

 

(Bruce tried to not watch him too closely.)

 

(...he drank his alcohol and thought it tasted too bitter tonight.)

 

(he glanced over at Clark and mouthed ‘depressing.’ And something that probably translated enough to ‘need to distract.’)

 

\--

 

**Clark could read lips well enough.**

 

**“We need a drinking game.” He declared, breaking the line of conversation this was going towards.**

 

**“Anyone got suggestions?”**

 

**\--**

 

Oh  _ god,  _ that was the worst direction to take.

 

“If you dare say ‘never have I ever’--” Bruce began.

 

“Never Have I Ever,” Batman supplied immediately, making direct eye contact with Clark.

 

\--

 

**“Yeah that’s fun.” Superman instantly backed his partner up.**

 

**“Never Have I Ever it is then.” Clark smiled and took one last drink before they started. “Who goes first?”**

 

**\--**

 

“I hate  _ all  _ of you,” Bruce said, glower back. 

 

Batman looked over at Superman, eyebrows up in suggestion to let him go first.

 

\--

 

**“I’ll go.” Superman said once he caught Batman’s eyes.**

 

**“Never have I ever…” he took a second to think of something not so bad to start out with. “... gotten drunk.”**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce grumbled and took a sip, much smaller than he usually took.

 

He  _ knew  _ this fucking game, and he wanted to walk tomorrow. 

 

Batman took his own much more easily. 

 

“Never have I ever been arrested,” Batman said. 

 

Bruce took another sip, glaring. 

 

\--

 

**Superman scoffed and took a drink too, much to his double’s surprise.**

 

**“Hm,” Clark thought.**

 

**“... Never have I ever eaten a burger with a fork and knife.”**

 

**He looked Bruce** **_right in the eyes._ **

 

**\--**

 

Bruce looked him  _ right back in the eyes  _ as he took a sip. And, not breaking eye contact, he said, “Never have I ever  _ started levitating in my sleep _ .”

 

(Batman drank for the fork and knife, but not levitation.)

 

\--

 

**Both of the supers drank. Of course.**

 

**“Never have I ever had sex with a girl,” Superman said.**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce drank again. 

 

He hadn’t missed a single one so far, and he was only dreading it going further. 

 

He wasn’t surprised that the younger Batman drank, too, even if the boy had glanced at Superman and hesitated before doing so.

 

\--

 

**Clark drank too, looking at his younger self. “We have lead vastly different lives is what I’m learning tonight.”**

 

**It was Batman’s turn for a question now.**

 

**Superman didn’t seem phased that Batman drank.**

 

**He assumed Bruce wasn’t a virgin when they started being together.**

 

**\--**

 

Maybe Batman regretted it more than it bothered Superman that it had happened. 

 

“I can’t imagine you with a girl at all,” he said, shaking his head a little, before thinking about his next one. “....Never have I ever had a threesome, though.”

 

“God  _ damnit _ ,” Bruce muttered, and drank  _ again _ .

 

\--

 

**“** **_I_ ** **can’t imagine myself with a girl at all.” Superman smirked, and didn’t drink for Batman’s question. He did delight in Bruce’s agony though.**

 

**“Hm,” Clark thought again, “... never have I ever taken someone’s virginity.”**

 

**\--**

 

Both Waynes drank again, Batman turning a mild red. “Sorry, Clark.”

 

(Bruce started choking.)

 

\--

 

**Superman turned a little red too, not drinking. He used his hand to hide some of his face.**

 

**“You’re up, Bruce.” Clark said.**

 

**\--**

 

…..

 

Bruce scowled. 

 

…. 

 

Fuck. 

 

He hated this game. 

 

It was  _ specifically made to victimize him _ .

 

“....” 

 

What the fuck did people do. 

 

“Never have I ever… huffed paint. Fuck it.”

 

\--

 

**“That’s not even trying.” Clark snorted, and neither of the supers drank.**

 

**“Never have I ever…” Superman said, having to think a moment. “... Walked in on people having sex.”**

 

**Might’ve been cheating. He could hear them to know. But he was curious if Bruce would drink to that one too.**

 

**\--**

 

Batman did, but hesitantly. Stealth missions had the unfortunate side effect of sometimes being in rooms you didn’t really want to pass through. 

 

And Bruce grimaced, and drank again. 

 

At seeing Superman watching him specifically, he said, “I raised teenagers.”

 

Sometimes he had to walk in on  _ purpose  _ and shut that shit  _ right the fuck down. _

 

\--

 

**“Oh, right. Even we got walked in on once.”**

 

**That had been pretty early in their relationship. Getting caught by Kenny and Pete. Ugh.**

 

**\--**

 

“Does that time with Alfred count?” Batman asked miserably. 

 

Bruce suddenly looked  _ very  _ sympathetic.

 

\--

 

**Superman had to think about that. “... Maybe. Even though it was just the aftermath it was pretty obvious.”**

 

**\--**

 

Ah. Okay. “Aftermath’s not as bad,” Bruce said. 

 

Alfred had… picked him up enough times that he was used to showing up pretty messed up. Sex or fighting, it wasn’t  _ that  _ different.

 

Batman gave him a withering look.

 

“Never have I ever willingly gone to train under a megalomaniac,” he said flatly. 

 

… Bruce sighed and accepted he probably deserved that for  _ something _ , and drank again. “We aren’t doing number of times, right?”

 

He was nearing the end of his glass.

 

\--

 

**“I'll help you finish that off,” Clark said before saying; “never have I ever found proof of hell.”**

 

**\--**

 

“God  _ fucking  _ damnit,” Bruce said, and slammed back the rest. 

 

“What the  _ fuck _ ?” Batman said. 

 

“Please, god, do not ask,” said Bruce.

 

\--

 

**“How are we not supposed to ask about that?” Superman stared.**

 

**\--**

 

“I have lived in Gotham for over forty years,  _ sometimes  _ people just. Summon demons. And you have to  _ deal with that shit. _ ”

 

He poured himself another glass. 

 

“Never have I ever wanted to visit Willy Wonka’s factory. Edible wallpaper sounds disgusting.”

 

\--

 

**Both supers drank.**

 

**“What kid didn't? You're weird.” Clark said.**

 

**\--**

 

“People keep saying that,” Bruce said, voice a little rough. 

 

It had been a long night. He’d gone through the glass pretty fast. 

 

(Batman drank after seeing Clark do it.)

 

“It’s really not comforting to know I’m no longer the weirdest person in a room,” Batman said. 

 

\--

 

**Superman huffed.**

 

**After a few more rounds of ‘Never Have I Ever’ they pretty much ran out of embarrassing questions. Neither Kryptonian would be feeling the buzz, but that was just a product of their makeup.**

 

**Besides, they would have their hands full dealing with Bruce and his younger self anyway.**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce and his younger self had…. 

 

Started taking potshots at some point. 

 

Batman was still injured and didn’t have years of liver damage making him used to this. Bruce had drunk at  _ every single question _ , making his reasons for disliking the game  _ quite  _ clear. 

 

“Never have I ever  _ attacked an alien _ ,” Batman said, eyes flinty, chest pressed against the edge of the table to keep upright. 

 

Bruce drank his third glass without breaking eye contact, leaning heavily on one elbow on his granite countertops. “ _ And he went down _ .”

 

“Fffuck you.”

 

\--

 

**Clark had to drink to that too, but once he did he decided to put an end to this.**

 

**“Okay, I think that's enough.” He sighed, getting up to clear the counter of empty bottles.**

 

**\--**

 

“ _ You wanted this, _ ” Bruce hissed as the (empty) bottle was pried from his grip. 

 

Batman seemed to growl instinctively in return to the hiss, and slumped  _ sideways  _ into Superman. Shoving his face against Superman’s pec.

 

\--

 

**“And you kinda deserved it.” Clark shrugged, shoving the bottles in the recycle.**

 

**Superman wrapped an arm around Batman so he didn't end up slipping off the stool or anything.**

 

**At least it would numb the pain from all those bruises.**

 

**\--**

 

“I don’t have to accept that,” he said, words still relatively unslurred, but he was definitely at the point where he would not stand well on his own. 

 

He looked over at Batman and Superman. Clung around each other. 

 

“Clark, why aren’t you like that?” 

 

\--

 

**Clark looked over at them.**

 

**“... Why aren't** **_you_ ** **like that?” He shot back.**

 

**Superman watched them, his hand idly slipping up just a little under Bruce's shirt so their skin was touching where they couldn't see around the table.**

 

**Just for contacts sake.**

 

**\--**

 

(Batman still sucked in a small breath. 

 

As much as they joked about how rough they could be, so many hands that reached for Bruce had been violent. A gentle, safe touch still was electric.)

 

“ _ I’m  _ the one who wakes up alone all the time,” Bruce grumbled. 

 

\--

 

**“You sleep until** **_noon_ ** **and I have a** **_job.”_ ** **Clark said, walking over to stand beside Bruce.**

 

**\--**

 

“You don’t work seven days a week, and we don’t fuck seven days a week,” he groused. “You can  _ schedule _ .”

 

(Batman found his pulse speeding up as they spoke.)

 

\--

 

**Clark sighed and rolled his eyes a little, “You want me to start flying over and climbing into bed with you so you can wake up and grumble about me being there when I could be doing something else?”**

 

**Superman looked down at Batman and quietly asked; “you okay?”**

 

**\--**

 

“You’re  _ always  _ letting me grumble at you when you could be somewhere else. You’ve got a streak for it and no one to blame but yourself.” 

 

Batman nodded a little, not enough to draw attention, but--

 

This world. This  _ shitty  _ person, who’d hurt Clark, was still… 

 

\--

 

**“Maybe I like hearing you grumble,” Clark said.**

 

**Superman wasn’t… sure about that, but he didn’t argue against it. His hand stayed on Batman’s hip, fingers occasionally moving to pet a small part of skin while his other hand reached out to grab his beer and finish what was left.**

 

**\--**

 

“Then why do you complain about it…? Grumble too.”

 

Batman didn’t dare say something about it upstairs, even as inebriated as he was. Maybe it just made his paranoia worse. Or maybe it’d been the last three weeks. He didn’t know.

 

He just curled tighter into Superman and let himself focus on the hand and the bruise he could focus on in he had to. 

 

“Hey,” Bruce said. “You went to prison?”

 

\--

 

**Superman looked up once he was addressed.**

 

**“No? I said I was arrested. Didn’t get as far as prison.”**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce looked  _ almost  _ disappointed. 

 

“You jaywalk?” 

 

\--

 

**Superman gave him a flat look, a little** **_over_ ** **how Bruce seemed to think he was an innocent little kid.**

 

**“I flung one guys through the front of his house and blew another guy's arms off.” He said flatly.**

 

**\--**

 

….

 

Bruce turned around and stared at Clark. 

 

“I  _ hate  _ heat vision. What the  _ fuck  _ Clark.”

 

“Hey,” Batman said, “hey, fuck off.”

 

\--

 

**“You try controlling heat lasers coming out of your eyes when you're a little kid.” Clark said, turning to his double, “What happened to make it come to that?”**

 

**Superman rubbed Batman's side a little more as if to say ‘it's okay’.**

 

**“They shot up the gas station and killed three people. Sheriff couldn't find them, so… went looking myself.”**

 

**“If I hadn't of done anything they woulda killed a whole family too.”**

 

**_He didn't regret it._ **

 

**_\--_ **

 

Even Bruce didn't seem to find a fault with that, though he was grimacing. 

 

“They'd’ve shot the parents in front of the kid,” Batman added in a snarl. 

 

And Bruce didn't say anything. 

 

\--

 

**“And they tried shooting me too. Revolver to the face, shotgun to the chest.”**

 

**“So… yeah. Don't regret it or anything.”**

 

**\--**

 

Something sour settled over Bruce’s face. 

 

“That's as effective to you as if someone tried to sue me,” he said.

 

Unbalanced retribution. 

 

He should've kept his mouth at protecting others. 

 

\--

 

**“They thought I was just another kid. They would've killed me. They tried to. What if I** **_had been_ ** **?” Superman glared at him.**

 

**“It broke my nose and put shrapnel in my arm and chest. If I wasn't a--” he gestured vaguely to Clark, “--kryptonian whatever, I would be dead.”**

 

**Why was he still defending himself over something that had happened 10 years ago?**

 

**Why did he** **_feel like he had to_ ** **.**

 

**(** **_Sometimes he still smelled the burning flesh right before falling asleep and it kept him up at night.)_ **

 

**_\--_ **

 

Bruce did that. He didn't know why. He didn't fucking  _ mean to.  _ But there was something in him that always brought out the worst of people. The guilt. Something. 

 

Maybe that's why everyone was always ready to run when he started chasing them away. 

 

“But you weren't a normal kid,” he said, “were you?”

 

\--

 

**“Bruce,” Clark said, trying to get him to back off.**

 

**“No, but that isn’t the point,” Superman argued back. “What are you trying to say? That I should’ve let them die? That I should have handled the situation better? I already know that. But hindsight is 20/20 isn’t it? And now 10 years later there are three murderers still behind bars so they can’t hurt anyone else, and one has no arms, and I get to have nightmares about shooting them off with my eyes without meaning to, but there’s a kid** **_alive_ ** **and parents who got to watch him grow up.”**

 

**“So judge me all you want, I really couldn’t care what you think of me.”**

 

**He downed the last of his beer and set the bottle down loudly.**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce closed his eyes. Head falling back. 

 

“Kids make mistakes,” he said softly. “But no one died.”  

 

God he was tired. 

 

He was tired and he wasn't even enjoying being drunk. 

 

\--

 

**…**

 

**“I think it's time to turn in.” Clark said, looking at Bruce. “Even you.”**

 

**\--**

 

“If you even try to carry me I swear to god…” Bruce mumbled, trying to push himself up. 

 

Batman just held Superman close. Arms curled against him. Glaring dulled by haze. 

 

\--

 

**“Prove to me you can walk on your own and I won't have to carry you.” Clark smirked and looked over at the kids.**

 

**“You two able to get back downstairs on your own?”**

 

**\--**

 

“Yeah,” Batman mumbled, and shoved himself into Superman’s lap, expecting to be picked up just fuckin’ fine. 

 

\--

 

**Superman made an ‘okay’ sort of sound and reached around to lift Batman up with one arm while grabbing the IV with the other.**

 

**He got up, more than happy to head downstairs away from these two.**

 

**“And what about you?” Clark asked Bruce. “How well can you stand on your own?”**

 

**\--**

 

Batman lay an arm around Superman’s shoulders, head curled into the curve of his neck. 

 

Didn't mind being carried by his partner. Even better when they were getting away from the shithead-him. 

 

...Bruce watched them go, and turned Clark’s question over in his head. 

 

“...probably make it to the sink,” he said, and shakily tried. 

 

And vomited liquid into the garbage disposal. 

 

That'd help.

 

\--

 

**Clark sighed and handed him something to wipe his mouth off with before wrapping and arm around his middle and grabbing one of Bruce's arms to go around his neck.**

 

**“Anything I should get you before I climb in beside you?” He asked, leading the man to bed.**

 

**\--**

 

“...water bottle,” he croaked, voice hoarse, but he let himself be led to the bedroom. 

 

...the kids were already gone. 

 

(“I hate him,” Batman muttered, two stories below.)

 

\--

 

**(Clark would get Bruce water and make sure the trash can was close before helping him get his shoes off and climb into bed with him.)**

 

**…**

 

**“Yeah, me too.” Superman grumbled, carrying his partner out of the elevator and to the room they now shared.**

 

**…**

 

**“God. How're we even going to get home.”**

 

**\--**

 

Batman let his eyes wander around the cave. 

 

Industrial. Well worn. There was moss in the damper sections from years of artificial light. 

 

“I don't know…”

 

…

 

“2020…?”

 

“And the world's still like this…?”

 

\--

 

**… Yeah. It was… depressing to say the least.**

 

**“We know our world is different already. We'll just have to make sure that we do our damnedest to make it better.”**

 

**He got them to their room and set Bruce of the edge of the bed, positioned his IV so it was comfortable. “And it's already better.”**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce looked up at him, eyes still hazy with the last three weeks and buried under alcohol he didn't really need. 

 

“God, you're so fucking stupid…” he said, and leaned up to kiss Clark with all that he had. 

 

\--

 

**It was different when Bruce said it.** **_This_ ** **Bruce.**

 

**Clark laughed into the kiss and returned it fully, reaching up to hold his head steady. They hadn’t kissed since before they had been split up. He was eager to make up for that at least a little bit.**

 

**“I love you too.”**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce kissed. He'd been told he was already good at it a while before first kissing Clark for real, but while sloppy drunk and with no fine motor skill to back him up, he was still kissing like it was Clark whose lips were so searing. 

 

Desperate and soft and just happy to be close. 

 

When he pulled away to breathe he lay his cheek against Clark’s, not caring about the scar or much of anything other than the hand holding up his neck, and letting Clark know, “we’ll do it better than they ever could.”

 

\--

 

**“Yeah we will,” Clark grinned, kissing Bruce’s neck.**

 

**He urged him to lay back and climbed over him to get in bed beside him.**

 

**“Get some rest. We’ll figure out everything tomorrow.”**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce nodded, tired and a little dumb, and curled up in Clark's arms. 

 

“Figure it out tomorrow….” he agreed quietly. 

 

And closed his eyes. And fell asleep. 


	7. bein both sad and excited about being not fucking straight is complicated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's complicated to be happy

_Previously:_

_“Get some rest. We’ll figure out everything tomorrow.”_

 

_ Bruce nodded, tired and a little dumb, and curled up in Clark's arms.  _

 

_ “Figure it out tomorrow….” he agreed quietly.  _

 

_ And closed his eyes. And fell asleep.  _

 

\--

 

**Clark wasn’t very tired, but he would force himself to sleep too.**

 

**… And the house would be quiet.**

 

**This time neither super would leave their respective Batman, not even the older one upstairs after he had complained about waking up alone.**

 

**\--**

 

(....Bruce Wayne would wake up in the morning beside someone he knew, and he wouldn't say anything. 

 

He would just quietly kiss the back of their neck with his chapped lips, as if in apology. 

 

Clark didn't need to give a shit about him.) 

 

...downstairs, the young, scarred Batman had finally had something to fill his stomach the night before. 

 

Now, he was catching up on three weeks of aches and exhaustion, sleeping right through an Alfred Pennyworth coming down to check his IV and departing after delivering a two-tray breakfast. 

 

\-- 

 

**Downstairs Clark would be awake for the IV change. He gave Alfred a partial smile and thank him for the food, and he would eat in bed without moving so Bruce could continue to sleep.**

 

**Upstairs was a little different.**

 

**The older Clark would get up after Bruce was awake and they could have some breakfast, along with some painkillers for what was probably a mild hangover for Bruce.**

 

**But it was time to talk about a… plan.**

 

**“So, now that everyone is back and alive, you have any ideas on how to get those two back home?”**

 

**They had the zeta tube blueprints. Maybe they could figure something out with that.**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce was, definitely, kinda hungover. 

 

Not that it stopped him. 

 

He obediently ate what Alfred set in front of him, and said, softly, “Try to contact the world that made your portal.”

 

\--

 

**He looked a little surprised. Tired too, like he was do fed up with this.**

 

**Because he was.**

 

**“Any idea how we're going to do that?”**

 

**\--**

 

“Mh,” Bruce said, equally exhausted. “See if we can reverse engineer the location from the energy signatures we collected…”

 

“...not much to go on, but it’s more information than we have on  _ their  _ homeworld.”

 

\--

 

**Clark sighed, “How long do you think that will take?”**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce rubbed his face. 

 

“...let’s try not to dwell on that one. Get Cyborg down here and pray.”

 

\--

 

**Clark took a deep breath. He forced himself to eat some of his food.**

 

**“Guess we'll be playing babysitter for awhile. At least they can pass as different people should something happen.”**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce nodded. Groaned. 

 

“I really don’t need to get caught hiding more kids in my basement.”

 

\--

 

**He couldn't help but laugh at that one, “At least you're used to it.”**

 

**\--**

 

His head hit the table. 

 

“ _ No _ .”

 

\--

 

**“There, there.” Clark chuckled, rubbing Bruce's back.**

 

**“I'll call Cyborg and fill him in. You have anywhere you need to be today?”**

 

**\--**

 

Always. 

 

Fuck.    
  


“Office,” he said. “Board meeting. Mayor’s hosting a party. One of the surviving Falcones is there and I’m going to have to nip that in the bud before the weapons trade gets out of hand again.”

 

Work.

 

….

 

But it was… nice to start this sort of stressful day out with having someone with him for breakfast.

 

\--

 

**Clark took another breath, “Good luck.”**

 

**“I can finish some stuff here, but if I need to rush out for whatever reason I'll let you know.”**

 

**He didn't think Alfred** **_wasn't_ ** **capable of handling the two kids, but… who knew.**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce nodded. 

 

“...fuck. See if Diana has free time if you need to. I don’t need them meeting Arthur.”

 

_ Fuck  _ Arthur and his very well sculpted swimmer’s abs.

 

\--

 

**“Arthur would probably have them drunk again.”**

 

**Not that he didn't like the guy, but… he didn't come off as the ‘babysitter’ type.**

 

**Once he had finished his breakfast he got up, “I'll go check on them again.** **_Try_ ** **and have a good day.”**

 

**He walked around to the other side of the table where Bruce sat to give him a kiss on the cheek. Something he didn't have to return.**

 

**\--**

 

...it still made him lift his head and watch as Clark left, a soft look in his eyes. 

 

(didn’t deserve it.)

 

…

 

Downstairs, the young batman was still… asleep. 

 

But he was starting to become rested enough to create nightmares again. 

 

And his brain had a whole wealth new information to trouble him with, now.

 

\--

 

**It was easy for Clark to tell Bruce was having a nightmare, it was all in the pattern of his heartbeat.**

 

**He quickly set his mostly finished breakfast aside and leaned over, hand on his partner’s shoulder to gently shake him awake.**

 

**“Bruce. Bruce?”**

 

**\--**

 

After years and years of this pattern, Bruce no longer lashed out at the first person to try and wake him. 

 

He sucked in a sharp breath and held himself stiff, eyes snapping open as soon as he could force them to move.

 

\--

 

**“... Hey,” came a soft voice from above him.**

 

**It had been three weeks without Clark there to wake him up like this. But now their pattern was back again. Clark was sitting up, leaned a little over him to see his face, a hand on his arm rubbing up and down gently.**

 

**“It’s okay. Just a nightmare.”**

 

**\--**

 

...Bruce let his breath go. It shuddered out of his mouth, and he closed his eyes again, relaxing into the hand. 

 

He rolled over and buried his face into Clark again, just glad to breathe in his smell and feel his body heat. 

 

\--

 

**Clark pet through his hair. He didn’t ask what the nightmare was about.**

 

**He could take a pretty confident guess.**

 

**“You slept for a long time.”**

 

**\--**

 

“Feel like I slept on the underside of a steamroller,” he grumbled back.

 

\--

 

**“You look it,” Clark huffed. “All those bruises are catching up to you.”**

 

**“Want me to ask for some painkillers?”**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce shook his head. 

 

“Don’t want my brain foggy here…”

 

The level of painkillers he had to take at this point  _ always  _ fucked him up, even if it was just a mild spaciness. 

 

\--

 

**“Okay. Feel up to eating?”**

 

**He reached over and shifted the plates around. “Alfred brought it down not too long ago.”**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce grimmaced a little, but mostly about Alfred coming in while he was  _ supposed  _ to be sleeping and snuggling Clark. 

 

“Makin’ me sit up…” he grumbled. 

 

But he was still ready to eat goddamn  _ anything  _ that wasn’t Assassin Gruel and magic potions. 

 

He shoved breakfast in his mouth.

 

\--

 

**Clark helped him sit up and position the tray on his lap, shoving pillows behind him to make it easier.**

 

**“I never showed you this, did I?” He said, and pulled the tablet from the bedside table to show Bruce.**

 

**“They call it a tablet,” he turned it on. “You can do like… everything on this thing.”**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce looked over at the thing, blinking tiredly at it.

 

“...looks like Star Trek,” he said, but with a hint of interest in his voice.

 

…. Maybe a good bit of interest.

 

\--

 

**“It’s** **_just_ ** **like Star Trek.” Clark grinned and tapped a little square that read ‘NETFLIX’.**

 

**“This thing lets you watch** **_anything you could ever want_ ** **. It’s like a movie theatre in a little box with every movie ever made. And look--” He tapped a few more buttons.**

 

**“It even has a section for gay stuff!”**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce’s eyes got wide. 

 

“What.”

 

Bruce had had a fuck of a time watching movies ever since What Had Happened To His Parents, and while VHS had helped him finally start to catch up, he still had to wait a good year before watching anything after it had already come out. 

 

And  _ none of that shit was gay _ .

 

“They  _ make  _ gay stuff?”

 

\--

 

**“They** **_make_ ** **gay stuff.”**

 

**Clark started to scroll through it. A drop-down menu.**

 

**_It had ‘LGBTQ’_ ** **as it’s OWN SECTION.**

 

**“Look at all this, B.”**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce stared down at it, brow furrowed but mouth agape. 

 

“...and you’re  _ sure  _ it’s not all porn?”

 

\--

 

**“Almost none of it’s porn.” Clark said, scrolling through and letting the descriptions hover so Bruce could read them. “It’s documentaries or romances mostly.”**

 

**He looked at him, “** **_Romances._ ** **”**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce looked back at him. Face tranquil.

 

“If you punch me hard enough, I’ll be bedridden for a while, and you’ll have no choice but to lie here with me watching shit for  _ hours-- _ and feeding me, if you also hurt my arms.”

 

A romantic he was.

 

(...)

 

\--

 

**Clark laughed, “I’m not doing that. We can sit and watch it without bodily harm.”**

 

**“Pick one. We can start watching while you eat your breakfast.”**

 

**\--**

 

..Bruce nodded, anxious, and started to read through descriptions. 

 

...but he would eventually find one that seemed… easy. To start with. 

 

A documentary. 

 

To learn more. 

 

What was going on.

 

\--

 

**Clark wrapped an arm around Bruce’s shoulders to pull him against his side while he ate and they watched a documentary about the last decade or so of gay history.**

 

**… At some point though the older Superman would tap on the door and Clark would quickly pause it as he poked his head in.**

 

**“You two need anything?”**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce said nothing. 

 

Maybe gave a shake of the head. 

 

But his face had gone still and cold again as the door opened. 

 

...maybe this world’s Superman wasn’t as bad as its Batman. But that didn’t mean he could shake the association of a man who’d sit back and watch Bruce act like  _ that _ .

 

\--

 

**“No, we’re fine. Thanks.” Clark responded for him, and after a quick ‘** **_okay just let me know if you need anything’_ ** **the older Superman was gone again.**

 

**…**

 

**They would be left alone to finish the rest of their documentary.**

 

**\--**

 

…

 

Bruce ducked his head. 

 

Pulled up a keyboard on the tablet, without seeming to need any instruction. 

 

_ ‘Is he better?’  _

 

\--

 

**…**

 

**Clark typed next. Chicken-pecking and slow.**

 

**_‘Than batman? YES’_ **

 

**\--**

 

‘ _ Good. _ ’

 

…. He sighed a little. Tried to relax back into  _ his  _ Clark. 

 

‘ _ Don’t let me be like him. _ ’

 

\--

 

**_'i won't’_ ** **Clark typed, then added; ‘** **_you'd never be like him’._ **

 

**\--**

 

‘ _ Don’t let me _ ,’ he typed again. 

 

...then, after a long moment of not surrendering they keyboard, added his own:

 

‘ _ Feels like dad.’ _

 

\--

 

**Clark blinked, shocked, and looked at Bruce to see if he would elaborate.**

 

**\--**

 

….

 

Bruce did not talk about his father much. 

 

Somehow, he’d talked about Thomas Wayne even less after that shitty night in the sewers, being held down and told Alfred would find his body in the bathtub, framed as a suicide. 

 

(and then Ra’s had to go and talk about Bruce being  _ like a goddamn son _ .)

 

...he wasn’t sure if he  _ could  _ elaborate. 

 

‘ _ Bad legacy _ .’ he said. ‘ _ The worst idea to grow up to be _ .’

 

Maybe objectively Thomas Wayne of the Court of Owls was worse than a bitter, angry Batman who had no friends and no skill in making them, and only ever insulted people, but still put on a cowl. 

 

But that didn’t mean he wanted to be either of them.

 

\--

 

**…**

 

**Clark took the keyboard.**

 

**_‘you won't grow up to be that because I'll kick your butt if you do okay?’_ **

 

**He looked at Bruce, frowning.**

 

**\--**

 

Fun reversal. 

 

Bruce smiled back, face soft. 

 

“Okay,” he said. 

 

… 

 

“Hey. When we get home…” because he couldn’t say ‘if’ right now, “...maybe we go to San Francisco as Batman and Superman. ...see if Pride would let us in.”

 

\--

 

**… Clark grinned at that, “I can't see why they wouldn't. I think that'd be fun.”**

 

**His eyes widened suddenly, like something had just occurred to him.**

 

**“... No one knows who you are here.”**

 

**Bruce could walk outside, even with makeup and no mask, and** **_no one would know._ **

 

**_\--_ **

 

Bruce looked back at him, eyes wide. 

 

Even in Gotham. Even in his  _ own city _ . He could… just exist for a day or two?

 

...he reached down on the bed silently, grabbing Clark’s wrist.

 

Didn’t know how else to say it. 

 

\--

 

**…**

 

**Clark grabbed the keyboard again.**

 

**_‘Can't sneak out with a Superman on watch, but maybe he'll say yes?’_ **

 

**_\--_ **

 

_ ‘Won’t accept a ‘no’’  _ Bruce replied.

 

‘... _ but today, probably can’t walk, either. I want to walk _ .’

 

He wanted to  _ be there  _ on the streets, not driving in a car or being piggybacked around, even though it was fine inside houses or private places.

 

But… 

 

Maybe he just wanted to pretend he was a kid again after all this. Before he knew all the shit on his family, and had ruined everything, and before he and Clark had even kissed the first time. 

 

Sneaking out from school on Halloween to go have a night out, Bruce in a disguise and finally breathing again.

 

\--

 

**Clark nodded, smiling. “In a few days. You'll look a lot better too.”**

 

**He couldn't keep the grin off his face. “Oh my god we can hold hands in public?”**

 

**Things to look forward to in this world.**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce swallowed. Anxious. But still trying to stay cautiously optimistic. 

 

He wanted to, too. 

 

“...let’s see and double check first, maybe.”

 

….maybe this world’s Superman could get them something after all.

 

\--

 

**“... Yeah you're right. We should ask what's okay.”**

 

**Documentaries didn't really spell that out plainly.**

 

**Sometimes he got ahead of himself. It always bothered him how he and Bruce couldn't be public, even though he completely understood why.**

 

**\--**

 

It was okay. Bruce got ahead of himself, too. 

 

Clark pulled him back when that happened, before he spiraled into chasing his tail so far he could no longer move. 

 

When Clark ran too far ahead of caution, Bruce pulled him back, too. Helped him train his heat vision. Helped him have resources to handle when people got hurt on those early days of lonely patrol. 

 

But right now, he wanted to believe it was okay to just exist, too. 

 

“...this could be okay for a little while,” he said. “...but just a while.”

 

...maybe he could try to think of this weird, shitty world as a vacation.

 

\--

 

**“Just a little while.” Clark repeated, like he needed to tell himself the same thing.**

 

**“We can be tourists for once.”**

 

**Whenever they went anywhere it was usually for business.**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce nodded. 

 

“...what would you wanna do? If you could be anyone.”

 

\--

 

**He laughed a little, “I’m flattered you think I’m famous enough to warrant needing to pretend to be someone else just for privacy’s sake.”**

 

**Clark was just ‘Bruce Wayne’s friend’, barely worth someone mentioning.**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce sighed a little. Closed his eyes. 

 

“...you don’t have to be famous to just… imagine, though. Right?”

 

Or maybe Superman wasn’t ever sad about himself.

 

\--

 

**He scratched his beard.**

 

**“... I used to imagine what it was like to be just… normal. I guess.” Clark’s eyes got a little sad. “But that ain’t something like imagining you’re** **_someone else_ ** **. That’s just imagining myself as** **_me_ ** **without the alien parts.”**

 

**“But… nah. I don’t think so. People always talk about wanting to be someone else. Don’t have to be famous for that.”**

 

**\--**

 

...Bruce nodded a little, somewhat comforted, but also glad that… Clark was okay with himself, he guessed.

 

“Yeah…” … “Let’s start the movie again.”

 

\--

 

**“Okay,” Clark said, and did just that.**

 

**He was… honestly okay with just watching movies the rest of the day with Bruce. And if he got tired of watching gay movies and documentaries? There were… so,** **_so_ ** **many others to choose from.**

 

**It was** **_limitless_ ** **.**

 

**…**

 

**Older Clark honestly barely believed it. That they were fine sitting in bed all day. He called up Victor and let him know the situation, gave him what he would need, and off he went again. Other than that it was…**

 

**A shockingly uneventful day.**

 

**When Bruce got back home that evening Clark would be sat at the kitchen table working on his laptop, a monitor still pulled up showing the two downstairs. Still in bed.**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce came up in his loungewear (still slacks, still oxford) but hesitated at the sight of Clark at the table. 

 

“....uneventful?” he asked. Not sure if he was daring to hope or if he was worried he’d wasted Kent’s time. 

 

\--

 

**Clark looked over at him mid-sip of his drink. He gestured to the monitor showing the kid's room.**

 

**“Would you believe me if I told you they haven't moved all day?”**

 

**\--**

 

……

 

Bruce took a second, frowning darkly and confused, before he seemed to remember who, exactly, was in that room. 

 

“....no. If you handed 1987 me a tablet and a Netflix library I suppose I  _ would've  _ sat down all day…”

 

\--

 

**He smirked, “You movie nerd.”**

 

**It was said affectionately.**

 

**“They're enjoying the gay romances a lot. Sometimes I forget just how far we've come in that regard.”**

 

**\--**

 

...something like a smile managed at the corners of his mouth. 

 

“At least that’ll keep them in bed to heal instead of running around,” he said, not knowing the plans that had been made below. 

 

\--

 

**Clark didn't know the** **_extent_ ** **of their plans, but--**

 

**“For a few days at least. They mentioned how no one knew who Bruce would be, and how they could maybe be public with their relationship. So I think escape plans are in the works.”**

 

**He didn't sound like he was going to keep them from leaving.**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce frowned a little, but…

 

“Alright.”

 

He was going to just plant trackers in their food for the next few days. Just in case. 

 

\--

 

**Clark looked a little shocked.**

 

**“That's it? No grumbling about how it's not safe?”**

 

**\--**

 

“It's not,” he said. “...you've never had to take care of kids who don't consider you a replacement. You don't control them. You control the surroundings.”

 

Trackers, in this case. 

 

In the Dick’s case: conditions. 

 

In Jason’s…

 

...he had been too overconfident with Jason.

 

\--

 

**Clark's face softened, “I see.”**

 

**“... I'm sure you already have something in mind.” He said, recalling the trackers put on him early on. It was how Bruce showed he cared. “And I'll be around.”**

 

**Extra reassurance.**

 

**\--**

 

It was how Bruce showed he cared. 

 

It was fine if you crushed them once you found them. He appreciated it if you waited until he knew you were home safe, though. 

 

But of course, he couldn't really say out loud he was going to slip tracking mites in their food while a Kryptonian was in the house and possibly listening. 

 

Casual gossip was one thing. 

 

Something that could make them refuse to eat was another. 

 

“Good to know,” he said. 

 

\--

 

**“I** **_do_ ** **have my own city to watch though, even if I can hear it from here if I listen hard enough.”**

 

**Not that anyone was stupid enough to commit crimes in Metropolis anymore.**

 

**“I’ll stay another night, but will need to leave in the morning. Think you’ll manage?” he grinned.**

 

**He knew he would, even if it meant calling in Diana.**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce snorted. 

 

“You can leave tonight if you want. You were planning to be back this morning, if I recall.”

 

….but he had stayed with Bruce in bed, instead. 

 

\--

 

**“I know I can, but I’m not going to.” Clark folded his hands under his chin and gave Bruce a look. “You’re just going to have to put up with me for one more night. Hugging you in your sleep. But I think you’ll live.”**

 

**When it came to Bruce you sort of just had to… forcibly impose yourself. Otherwise he would constantly shrug you away.**

 

**\--**

 

The fact that he glanced downwards instead of protesting was… probably a strong sign that he kind of was glad Clark was insisting. 

 

(Somewhere, inside, despite his whole life making himself  _ indispensable _ , he was still a ten year old in an alley, with nothing to offer but a sad story.)

 

“If you feel like torturing yourself another night, I suppose I'll have to deal with it.”

 

\--

 

**“My secret is out. I’m a masochist.” He said in monotone while saving his progress and closing his laptop.**

 

**“I passed everything over to Victor today. He made a face like this-” Clark paused, a hand under his chin while his lips went tight and he stared somewhere in the middle ground with wide eyes, “-and said he would see what he could do. So…”**

 

**He made his own face, not looking very confident. “Guess we’ll find out if there’s hope by the end of the week.”**

 

**\--**

 

“He didn't say it was impossible, and so we have to assume there is a possibility. As long as a one-percent possibility exists, we can treat it as valid.”

 

Bruce started to open his bag and lay out his own papers. Things he had to read over and sign for WI. Statements given. Reports. 

 

“It may take a while, but if we can connect to the Assassin world, we can route them home, and ask for some more documents sent over so we don't have to do this  _ ever again.” _

 

\--

 

**“Won’t that be the day.” Clark grumbled, clearly pretty fed up with this whole energy surge, world-jumping nonsense. He was always the one who had to go through, whether it was voluntarily or not.**

 

**He glanced at all the papers Bruce was setting out. “Anything I can help with?”**

 

**Probably not, but he had to at least offer.**

 

**\--**

 

….

 

“Does superspeed extend to reading?”

 

\--

 

**“...”**

 

**It occured to Clark that wasn’t actually something anyone had ever asked him.**

 

**“Yes.”**

 

**\--**

 

“...”

 

Bruce was clearly… debating. Inside himself. 

 

Aside from his sour disposition and general confused isolation, one other thing that was clear about Bruce was that he a) wanted things done right, and b) did not trust anyone else to do  _ anything  _ right on the first try. 

 

It was okay, or even good, to expect things to go wrong when you were talking about training someone in an extremely difficult set of skills, such as live combat or rappelling off buildings. It meant you didn't expect to get it right the first time, and built contingencies around that. Being prepared to catch them. Starting combat training in a safe place. 

 

It was a whole other migraine when it came to paperwork, which was time consuming and would affect things down the line in a multimillion dollar business. 

 

….so he pursed his lips and thought for a good long moment before finally… handing Clark a small folder. 

 

“...if you would summarize this…” he said.

 

\--

 

**… Clark smiled and took what was handed to him.**

 

**He opened it up and started to go through, each paper only taking a couple of seconds. Then, when he was done, he went over them all again just to be sure he got it right the first time.**

 

**And then he summarized them for Bruce.**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce watched, rather than reading himself. 

 

And when Superman was done summarizing, he took the file and the summarization, and began to check it over, a schoolteacher making sure a student had understood the reading. 

 

...and when he deemed it acceptable, he nodded. 

 

And handed Clark another file. 

 

\--

 

**He didn't say anything about Bruce double-checking him. He had guessed that would happen.**

 

**So he just took the next file, did the same, summarized, and handed it back.**

 

**\--**

 

….after the third double-check, Bruce stopped looking over them immediately. He set them down beside him, and continued with his own files. 

 

He didn't give Clark the most important ones or especially tenuous ones, but it still… lightened the load. 

 

Cleared the space for Bruce to be  _ able  _ to start reading the more important ones sooner. 

 

Helpful. 

 

\--

 

**Helpful. That's all Clark wanted to be, really. He wanted Bruce to trust him that he was there to** **_help_ ** **.**

 

**When he didn't get any more files he got up and made them both some coffee, setting a mug by Bruce without him needing to ask for it.**

 

**“I'll go down and check on the kids.”**

 

**Married?**

 

**_Nah._ **

 

**_\--_ **

 

No. Lois had rejected him, in the end. 

 

This was just a carryover from how Clark was with everyone. 

 

But Bruce nodded, taking the coffee and drinking it without barely glancing up, and let Clark go on his way.

 

\--


	8. clubbing scenes ahoy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sexual innuendo and grinding occurs in this chapter. 
> 
> disclaimer: i am pretty sure neither author has ever been to a club
> 
> Skull Here: I have been to a club. They're fucking awful.

**Clark would brush his hand along Bruce's back as he passed behind him, but other than that he didn't say much else as he made his way down into the cave.**

 

**His younger counterpart would hear him coming to pause the movie they were watching.**

 

**“Superman is coming.” He warned his partner.**

 

**\--**

 

Batman’s eyes had started to hurt from watching the screen so much, but he was still lying with Superman’s arm behind his neck and letting himself try and enjoy things for once. 

 

His eyes moved over to Superman and he made a small sound of understanding. 

 

Another checkup, or something? He hoped not. Alfred had come down and changed their IVs, giving them food, so hopefully this wasn’t just… spywork.

 

\--

 

**Clark knocked even though he knew** **_they_ ** **knew he was coming simply out of politeness before opening the door.**

 

**“Still watching Netflix, huh?”**

 

**\--**

 

“One of us will break first. Either this computer, or my eyes,” Batman said. 

 

\--

 

**“Well at least you're remembering to eat,” Clark huffed. “Everything okay otherwise?”**

 

**\--**

 

“Depends on how our way home is coming?” he said, eyes darting up. 

 

\--

 

**Superman looked up at him too.**

 

**“It's… coming.” Clark said, sighing. “It might be awhile, but we do have a plan in motion.”**

 

**\--**

 

“...a viable one?” Batman asked, not… wanting to be  _ pessimistic _ , but… 

 

He guessed he couldn’t have done something like this tablet. So maybe that’s why he had… trouble with the ‘interdimensional’ stuff…

 

\--

 

**“A viable one.” Clark repeated with a nod.**

 

**“In the meantime though if you need anything just ask. I'll be around as often as I can be to play mediator. I know Bruce can be… difficult.”**

 

**\--**

 

Batman clutched his chest with a deadpan face, not sure if he wanted to look insulted or shocked.

 

\--

 

**Superman giggled next to him.**

 

**“I know, I know. He means well in the end. He’s just not very good at** **_dealing_ ** **.” Clark said with a sigh.**

 

**\--**

 

“ _ Dealing? _ ” Batman asked, quirking an eyebrow, trying not to smile when Superman giggled at him.

 

\--

 

**“Emotionally. Emotionally dealing. Especially when it comes to--”**

 

**_Don’t say kids._ **

 

**“--people younger than him.”**

 

**\--**

 

Immediate, Batman picked up with, “That’s  _ everyone but Alfred. _ ”

 

\--

 

**Okay, Clark laughed.**

 

**“** **_Ouch._ ** **”**

 

**\--**

 

“Oh, come on. That one wasn’t even aimed at you.”

 

...it was a little easier dealing with this guy than his older self. 

 

It wasn’t…. As hard. Talking with a Superman who was maybe too grim and had terrible taste in men, but who was at least making an effort to be friendly.

 

….he finally sat up a little, cracking his back and twisting his arms to loosen them, and said, “...there is actually something I could do with, if you can get it.”

 

\--

 

**Clark perked up, “Yeah? What would it be?”**

 

**\--**

 

...Batman still watched him, hesitating a moment, before answering, “Material. To rebuild my suit. And fix Clark’s.”

 

… 

 

“It didn’t last long, there.”

 

He’d tried to hold onto it, but… 

 

(...)

 

\--

 

**“... I’ll ask Bruce about that. Sadly that’s not something I can just pick up on the way home.”**

 

**…**

 

**“Planning to do some vigilante work while you’re here?”**

 

**He hoped not.**

 

**\--**

 

Batman gave him a flat look.

 

“I like to be prepared.”

 

\--

 

**Clark couldn’t help but smile, “Of course you do.”**

 

**“It might be useful for you two to have your gear anyway. Ra’s will definitely retaliate. We just don’t know how.”**

 

**\--**

 

...Batman took a deep breath. Nodding. 

 

“...Yeah. Okay. More reason to do it fast.”

 

\--

 

**Clark nodded, “I’ll ask him about it. Is there anything else?”**

 

**Superman glanced at his partner like he knew something he wanted to ask but was unsure.**

 

**\--**

 

…

 

Batman tilted his ear to him. 

 

Even if it was useless trying to play it subtle. Even if this Clark had superhearing, too. 

 

\--

 

**“... Did we want to ask about the… y’know…”**

 

**He seemed a little embarrassed.**

 

**“... What’s okay to do in public thing.”**

 

**\--**

 

Oh. 

 

Batman’s face softened. 

 

When he looked up at Clark again it was still with sharp eyes, but they were… less  _ sharp  _ in that way that Batman was, the way Clark knew Batman. 

 

He looked a little like Barry for a second.

 

“...and, one more thing. We’ve been watching some documentaries. If, hypothetically, two men held hands walking down the street, what would happen?”

 

\--

 

**Clark’s smile softened too.**

 

**“In Gotham? … Not much, I don’t think. Urban areas are usually more accepting of gay relationships than more rural parts of the US. You can hold hands, kiss… I think the worst you would get in response would be a hateful word or two.”**

 

**\--**

 

….

 

“And if I punched someone who insulted me?” Batman said, not because he would  _ plan  _ to. But. It had perhaps happened occasionally. 

 

They were killing them, in his world. Gay people. So he was going to be a little cockroach if he could.

 

\--

 

**“I don’t think anyone would report you as long as you were smart about it. Just don’t hurt them** **_too_ ** **much.” Clark smiled, but… did get a little serious.**

 

**“And I don’t know what all you’ve watched, but it’s still not guaranteed safe** **_anywhere_ ** **for gay people. There are still shootings. Beatings. But the sort of people who would do those things aren’t people I feel like either of you really need to worry about.”**

 

**These two were young, but not really something he would consider civilians.**

 

**\--**

 

...Batman nodded. Didn’t let too much show on his face. 

 

...he’d maybe been hopeful. Seeing media with them in it. 

 

But. 

 

...that didn’t mean they hadn’t seen the contents, and the violence inside them, too. 

 

...but maybe he’d been hopeful that it was just… hollywood drama. Like war movies. Like bad asylum horror stories. 

 

Maybe rooted in a little truth, but still just… movies, at the end of the day. 

 

“Right,” he said, and was scared to look at Superman’s face and see his disappointment.

 

\--

 

**He would be able to tell that Superman shifted, but not see the look on his face. But he would be right. It was disappointment.**

 

**…**

 

**“You two planning to take a day out soon?” Clark finally asked.**

 

**\--**

 

“If you’re going to pretend you didn’t overhear us, should we pretend Clark didn’t overhear you telling Batman?” Batman said. 

 

\--

 

**He snorted, “Who’s pretending? I just wanted to make sure you still took at least another day to heal some of those bruises, and to make sure you had aliases thought up.”**

 

**“We can get you some nicer clothes. There’s a gay bar on 5th I think you two might have fun at.”**

 

**\--**

 

….

 

“What, you gonna watch?” he said, appreciating the effort but also just… not used to it. 

 

Defensive of it even being mentioned, in a way, even though his voice lacked bite. 

 

\--

 

**Clark gave him a little bit of a grossed out look.**

 

**“No. Absolutely not. Just thought I’d give you a suggestion.”**

 

**_Kids._ **

 

**\--**

 

Batman looked away. 

 

… 

 

“I’m gonna need makeup.”

 

If they weren’t going to be snatching the things they wanted, then… might as well get an idea where it was. Or have it given to them.

 

\--

 

**“There should be some of that in the bathroom.” Clark said, knowing Bruce kept some just about everywhere for when he needed to go out again quickly after taking one too many blows to the face.**

 

**\--**

 

Batman nodded. 

 

Okay. 

 

(He wasn’t sure he was up to be the talker much longer.)

 

\--

 

**That was fine.**

 

**“Okay, well just let us know if you need anything else. I’ll ask Bruce about getting you some materials.”**

 

**And with that Clark was gone.**

 

**…**

 

**Once the door was closed Superman slumped down into the bed, not looking very happy.**

 

**\--**

 

….

 

Batman quietly reached over and placed his palm over the back of Superman’s hand. 

 

“...I’m sorry.”

 

\--

 

**Blue eyes looked over at him, framed by curly black hair that was starting to grow into his face.**

 

**“... It’s not your fault. I’m just…”**

 

**He stared at the ceiling.**

 

**“... Sad.”**

 

**He had gotten his hopes up too high.**

 

**\--**

 

…

 

Batman leaned up, brushing the hair from Superman’s face and kissing his forehead. 

 

“...we can still go out,” he said, voice soft. “...maybe we just walk close on the street. But we can still go to a club. And we can still be Bruce and Clark. Like you wanted.”

 

\--

 

**“We’d still have to use different names, don’t you think?” His eyes returned to look at Bruce.**

 

**\--**

 

“One night,” Bruce said, still holding Clark’s face. “No last names. Dressed-down clothes. Makeup. New world.”

 

…

 

“If you wanted a chance, this is going to be it.”

 

\--

 

**…**

 

**….**

 

**“I still wanna hold hands while walking down the street.”**

 

**It seemed silly that something so innocent and unimportant meant so much to him, but… it did.**

 

**\--**

 

…

 

Batman bit his lip. 

 

“Okay.”

 

\--

 

**… Clark shrunk down a little, guilty. “We don't have to.”**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce shook his head. 

 

“...it’s okay.”

 

He… knew how much Clark had wanted to be public. 

 

Batman and Superman were the compromise. 

 

But… 

 

This wasn’t something that could really follow them back, right?

 

“...I just don’t want something to happen and… ruin the mood.”

 

Something to break Clark’s heart.

 

\--

 

**“I'd rather the mood be there to be ruined in the first place then not at all. Besides-” he smiled, “-it'll be funny watching you punch some homophobe in the face.”**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce huffed. 

 

Hid his smile. 

 

“Trying to not get arrested might fall under us not drawing attention.”

 

\--

 

**Clark laughed and leaned up to peck a kiss on Bruce's lips. “I know.”**

 

**\--**

 

“You can’t just scoop me up and fly away if we draw attention.”

 

\--

 

**Clark groaned and flopped his head back into his pillow.**

 

**“Annoying “**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce huffed. 

 

Lay down beside him. 

 

“Dumbass,” he said.

 

\--

 

**Clark just grinned and turned his head to look at him in that dumb, love-struck sort of way.**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce couldn’t look back at him like that. 

 

But it was okay. 

 

...he’d do a lot of things to just keep Clark happy, and that was enough. 

 

He snuggled back down on the bed, leaning against Clark’s chest, and said, “Continue the marathon, chore-boy.”

 

And he would settle in with their finishing movie while waiting to either get permission to tinker, or to just start tinkering anyway and see if this world’s Batman would care enough to take it apart again.

 

\--

 

**Clark did go up and relay the message.**

 

**“So he wants material to rebuild their suits.” He said while pouring himself a cup of coffee.**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce looked up at him from over his hoards of papers at that and pursed his lips.

 

“Good,” he said. “...if he made that in 1987, I’d like to see what he can do.”

 

…

 

The next day, Alfred would come down with their breakfast and the keys to the workroom, and a small frown on his face as he told them that they could work in here as long as Alfred or Bruce were present, to make sure that any technological gaps could be filled in without losing any number of fingers-- because while they  _ could  _ attach fingers if they weren’t badly mangled, they did  _ not  _ want to have to, now did they, Young Master Bruce?

 

(the other world Batman bristled a little, but agreed to the terms, and got to work with the kevlar, wiring, a soldering iron, and the meanest looking needles he could find.)

 

…

 

It took him a day and a half to rebuild his helmet, which was the first thing he built without even having to think about it. 

 

Neither the Clark, Bruce, nor Alfred of this world had seen the differences in  _ his  _ uniform, but they were there, just as Superman’s uniform had changed from one world to another. Without the kryptonian material, Superman’s uniform had clearly been made by Batman: armored but flexible, mostly focusing on fabric endurance and using muted blues and grays for stealth. 

 

Batman’s uniform was… not dissimilar. 

 

His grays were darker than Superman’s, yes, but the suit was sleeker than this world’s tank of a brawler suit. More focused on maneuverability and stealth, as well. There was no cape, but a parachute glider could be stored on the back and folded down. 

 

...the helmet still had the ears. Horns? 

 

The eyes were covered, though. A blue visor. 

 

The only thing that showed of this Batman was a bit of mouth and jaw, and the jagged ‘J’ scar on his cheek.

 

\--

 

**While Bruce worked on their new uniforms, Clark… well. He didn't really** **_tinker_ ** **. He asked to use the workout room instead even though there wasn't anything in there he couldn't lift.**

 

**It still kept him busy, even if he spent it twirling huge barbells like a baton.**

 

**He would ask to go for a jog too. Promising not to fly off. But when he wasn't doing that he stayed right by his Bruce's side, especially if being away from him stressed him out.**

 

**He would just have to settle for doing push-ups behind him, or hovering in the air to get it out of his system.**

 

**…**

 

**The older Superman wasn't around for it, keeping his promise of spending one more evening with Batman before flying back to Metropolis to check up on her.**

 

**\--**

 

Metropolis had developed its own, odd relationship with Superman, but they were used enough to his comings and goings that even when he wasn't always there, there was a hesitancy in crime and violence. 

 

Ironically, Superman was possibly scarier than Batman ever became in some ways. 

 

...but it was while Superman was gone that the two young men called Bruce and Clark made their move. 

 

They did not ‘ask permission.’ They took clothes that had been offered and they left. 

 

The biggest warning was probably that Bruce spent any time in the bathroom self-grooming. His bruises had faded but he'd still avoided mirrors until he could stand his floundering facial hair no longer and shaved. Gave himself a sharp haircut. Smothered his face with makeup until the ‘J’ on his cheek no longer existed. 

 

Nice clothes and makeup, and a note left on their bed where they were supposed to be sleeping that read ‘ _ not kidnapped, just clubbing. See you later - S&B _ ’

 

\--

 

**Clark was the one who decided to do very little in terms of grooming. He shaved because he was Superman, but right now he was just Clark, and maybe the beard and longer hair helped him separate himself from the older version that called this world home.**

 

**So he stayed hairy. He pulled his hair back into a messy half bun to keep the curls out of his face but otherwise left things how they were. Rolled up sleeves, tight… everything it felt like.**

 

**Why was this Superman so much more lean? It was like things were reversed. Batman was buff when he shouldn’t have been too. What was up with that?**

 

**But once they were dressed and had signed their note, they left.**

 

**Into the city.**

 

**Clark wondered if it would be the same Gotham he knew. The same streets. The same shops. If they lasted this long.**

 

**\--**

 

….there was the hotdog vendor that usually in their world stayed by Park Row. And there was the florist, close enough to its original place. 

 

Things the same, just switched around. 

 

Bruce wondered if they'd be able to continue the ice cream parlor tradition. If they'd be able to find it, even. 

 

...it felt taller. And stranger. Like someone had switched the streets around under his feet, while still keeping the same old cobblestone. 

 

So he followed Superman's instructions a little blind. Looked for a gay club on 5th. 

 

\--

 

**Clark didn’t hold his hand yet, not while they stood and he looked around through the buildings to try and find their way to the club.**

 

**“Ice cream or club first?”**

 

**\--**

 

“Club,” Bruce said, stomach flipping over in anxiety. He didn't want to prolong it. 

 

\--

 

**“Okay, I think I found it.” Clark said, and… pulled his hand out of his pocket.**

 

**He offered it to Bruce.**

 

**\--**

 

...Bruce swallowed and held his breath. 

 

And took Clark’s hand. 

 

\--

 

**Clark squeezed it and smiled.**

 

**“Thanks,” he said quietly, and started to lead Bruce along the sidewalks towards the bar.**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce was… very, very aware of location, suddenly. More so than he even usually was. His eyes darted to the sidewalks and tried to catch glimpses of the people walking in front or behind them, or coming their way. Across the street. Who had noticed? Who was reacting? 

 

He felt awful about it. This gnawing anxiety. Keeping up appearances and being the scion of an old family had been his life for so long, and--

 

And he just wanted Clark to be happy, and all Clark wanted was to hold hands on the street. 

 

Everyone else could. It wasn't fair they couldn't. But today, maybe, for just a bit, if his paranoia could prove to  _ only  _ be paranoia for one day. 

 

He followed Clark into the bar, holding his hand tightly. 

 

\--

 

**No one stopped them on the street. No one heckled them. No one made comments about how he looked just like Bruce Wayne. No cameras. No photos.**

 

**Just them.**

 

**They walked through the street as if they were invisible.**

 

**As they got to the club it was already loud outside, a pride flag waving above the door and a pair of women grouped outside talking amongst themselves. Clark's hand gripped the handle of the door and he looked back at Bruce giving his hand another squeeze before opening it up and leading them inside.**

 

**…**

 

**It was loud, but all clubs were. There was a bar and seats with booths around the outside wall, and towards the back being the center of it all was a dance floor in front of a stage.**

 

**It was crowded, and people were wearing all sorts of different outfits. Some were like them, casual, but others wore leather; harnesses or tight booty shorts. Men were kissing and holding other men, women hugging other women. They were smiling and laughing and…** **_being themselves_ ** **.**

 

**\--**

 

It was like walking into another world. 

 

...which was ironic, maybe, because they  _ were  _ in another world, but…

 

This was more obvious. 

 

This was… nicer. 

 

Bruce felt his breath stutter at the first pair of men he saw kissing by the bar, casual, arms on each other's shoulders. 

 

He held Clark’s hand tighter, looking around.

 

\--

 

**When they stepped in was when they did get looks, like everyone who had noticed were checking to make sure they were** **_okay_ ** **, but after seeing them side by side and holding hands, they were given the clear.**

 

**Clark stepped in a little more to get out of the way of the door, a hand going down to Bruce's hip to keep him close, like somehow he would lose him.**

 

**He leaned down to talk into his ear, “Something to drink first?”**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce swallowed hard with the hand on his hip. But he leaned into Clark’s side. Trusting. Unused to this. 

 

“Yeah,” he said. “...just to take the edge off, maybe.”

 

He slid a hand in his pocket and handed Clark a crumpled $20. 

 

\--

 

**Clark took it and headed over to the bar, finding a spot he could stand and order drinks from the tattooed woman behind the bar.**

 

**At least he was tall enough to not have to worry about being noticed.**

 

**When she took his order and left he turned back to Bruce, leaning down to his ear again. “Is it too much? We can leave whenever you're not comfortable.”**

 

**\--**

 

Sometimes Bruce worried Clark forgot who he was in a way no one else ever let him.

 

“Clark,” he whispered back, knowing he'd be heard. “Shut up and sit on the barstool.”

 

\--

 

**Sometimes he liked to imply one thing about Bruce so he would be determined to prove him wrong.**

 

**He smiled and put his hands up, sitting on the stool.**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce slid onto Clark’s lap, straddling him in a way he never did outside the bedroom, and shoved their faces together to kiss. 

 

Kiss like it was okay. 

 

Like the boys on the dance floor. 

 

Desperate to be together in a public place. 

 

\-- 

 

**Clark felt his heart rate skyrocket. Kissing was so much more than holding hands and for a moment he panicked and had to catch himself to kiss Bruce back.**

 

**He put a hand on his ass to feel it and keep him from slipping off his lap, and someone not far away let out a whoop that might have been for them.**

 

**\--**

 

If he was going to challenge Bruce he had to be ready to be one-upped. 

 

And really. 

 

What was the difference between kissing and holding hands? About the same, if you asked him. 

 

He sucked in a breath at the hand on his ass and ignored the whoop. 

 

He pulled back first this time, looking down at Clark under him with raised eyebrows. 

 

“Comfortable?” he asked. 

 

\--

 

**Clark was beet red, “Nnyeah?”**

 

**Their drinks were set down and the bartender smiled at them before moving on.**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce smirked down at him. 

 

“Good.”

 

He made himself comfortable, too, on Clark's lap, before reaching over to pick up his drink and slide Clark’s over to him. 

 

\--

 

**Clark took his drink, but before he had any he leaned up to Bruce and said; “You see that guy in the leather shorts? You should get a pair of those.”**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce turned around to look,

 

“...what y’gonna do to me in them?” He asked, trying hard not to smile. 

 

He was on top of Clark, kissing, and no one was… angry. 

 

\--

 

**No one was angry. No one was even really watching them.**

 

**Clark was doing his best not to be flustered talking about this sort of thing in public.**

 

**“... Y'know how when we got our first apartment and we ‘broke in’ the kitchen? That.”**

 

**He finally took a drink.**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce broke, grinning, and hid his face in the crook of Clark’s neck.  

 

“You're terrible.”

 

\--

 

**Clark laughed and shoved his face into Bruce's hair. “You** **_asked!_ ** **”**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce held him. 

 

“Should I wear them if we get to San Francisco?”

 

At least one day he wanted to wear the full bat suit and look strong and like a protector for Pride, but… it would still be a celebration, right…?

 

\--

 

**“I think you should, but I am** **_very_ ** **bias about being able to see your ass in something tight.” Clark drank a little more, grinning.**

 

**“You think they would still take us seriously after that though? Or do we not care? S’not like some of them wanted to take us seriously after we kissed for the paper.”**

 

**\--**

 

“I think I can stand to put the fear of God in someone wearing booty shorts,” Bruce replied. “Not like they care what they're wearing when they hurt us, after all.”

 

\--

 

**His hand gave Bruce’s ass another squeeze.**

 

**“There’s nothing hotter than thinking about you subduing criminals in booty shorts right now.”**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce laughed and kissed him again. 

 

\--

 

**Clark laughed through the kiss.**

 

**He broke it only because he could tell someone was approaching them, glancing up to see an older woman dressed like a biker stop beside them at the bar.**

 

**“I’m sorry if I’m interrupting anything here, but I just wanted to come over and let you both know you’re one of the cutest couples I’ve ever seen in my fucking life.”**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce tensed up at being approached, but at that comment, he went bright red and shoved his face in Clark’s shoulder. 

 

What the fuck was happening. 

 

\--

 

**Clark watched Bruce** **_hide_ ** **and honestly that was the most hilarious thing ever. He laughed and said “Thank you!”**

 

**“I haven’t seen you here before though, you new or just passing through?”**

 

**\--**

 

Never new to Gotham. 

 

“Padding through…” Bruce said into Clark's shoulder. 

 

No one should be worried when they left. 

 

\--

 

**“Okay, well I just wanted to extend the olive branch, y’know?” The woman said, and held out her hand for Clark to shake since Bruce was busy hiding. “Amanda. You two ever need anything while you’re here and you just come and find me, alright?”**

 

**Clark shook her hand and nodded, “Okay. Thank you again.”**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce did lift his head enough to watch once the compulsion to hide finally waned. 

 

Watched Clark shake. 

 

If it was extended to him, he'd shake too. But he was used to not really being greeted. Clark handled interviews. He stood back. 

 

“Thanks.”

 

\--

 

**… And she left.**

 

**…**

 

**Clark looked down at Bruce with the biggest, mushiest smile.**

 

**“You’re so cute.”**

 

**\--**

 

“I hate you,” Bruce said, still red. 

 

\--

 

**Clark reached to guide Bruce’s face to him and planted another kiss.**

 

**“You wanna go dance?”**

 

**\--**

 

He kissed back. Closed his eyes. 

 

“...how close we dancing?” 

 

His body felt electric, even in places Clark wasn't touching him. 

 

\--

 

**Clark started to get up, hand sliding off Bruce's ass to go to his hip.**

 

**“How close do you want?”**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce slid off Clark’s lap as he stood, pressing close still, breathing in slowly as the hands went to his hips. 

 

“...just wanna know if you've got a plan for taking responsibility if you turn out to be a good dancer.”

 

Which, actually, Bruce was certain Clark was good at  _ anything  _ that involved movement.

 

\--

 

**Clark smirked, “I've given it some thought.”**

 

**He lead Bruce over towards the dancefloor. “But what about you?”**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce followed close, chugging his glass and setting it back on the bar before moving. 

 

“I figure I'll manage,” he said. 

 

\--

 

**The music was loud and he could feel it through every part of him, even before they got closer to the dancefloor. It wasn’t any music he knew and had a lot of bass, but after a quick glance around at everyone else he got a pretty good idea of how to move to it.**

 

**So he did just that.**

 

**His hands always stayed on Bruce one way or another, keeping their bodies close and touching the whole time.**

 

**\--**

 

...Bruce wasn't really really sure about the dancing, though  _ clearly  _ they were doing things right, and--

 

\--it wasn't as though he  _ disliked  _ it. 

 

But it was still new, and kind of embarrassing, and all he could do about it was mumble to Clark, “wanna see your hands on me later.”

 

\--

 

**Clark was usually the one to get flustered or embarrassed first, but dancing seemed to do the opposite for him. It was like he could ignore everything and focus on what he was doing, that Bruce was in his arms.**

 

**“They will be,” he said to him through the rumble of the music. “I wasn’t lying about giving it some thought. There’s a hotel across the street.”**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce had danced before, though not like this. The music was dissonant to the idea he had in his head of pressing to Clark and dancing slow circles through a room--in private. 

 

Maybe that could be filed away for later. For getting home. 

 

Right now it was hard to think with the pound of bass and Clark’s hands on him and holding him tight as they… grinded together. 

 

His mouth was getting dry and he wrapped his arms around Clark’s neck. 

 

\--

 

**It would be on Bruce to peel them away from the dancefloor. Clark didn’t feel the sweltering heat from all the other bodies around them, the music didn’t make his ears hurt any more than anything else, and he was very content to slip his hands under Bruce’s shirt and feel his hips and waist as they danced.**

 

**It might have been overwhelming for a human’s senses, but it was nothing new for Clark. Everything was** **_always_ ** **overwhelming, he had just learned to deal with it. And he was so, so happy they were close** **_in public_ ** **. It had been his dream to be.**

 

**\--**

 

Maybe Bruce had spent too much time with Clark, always trying to match up to his limits, but he'd try to hold out as long as he could. --until the hands up his shirt and the movement got away with him. 

 

He was trying to not twist in Clark’s grip and bit his lip instead, letting out a warning, “Clark…” as his arousal stopped being an idea and became a much  _ firmer  _ reality. 

 

\--

 

**Clark slowed down and looked at Bruce. He was luckier in the fact that his arousal was almost on command, with a few exceptions of course.**

 

**“... You wanna get out of here?” He ventured a guess.**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce sucked in a breath. 

 

“...yeah. We can still do ice cream after.”

 

Take responsibility first. 

  
  


\--

 

**Yeah. Keep the tradition.**

 

**“Okay,” he said, and leaned down to give Bruce a quick kiss before starting to lead him away from the dancefloor and towards the door. He was big enough that people usually parted for him, and before they knew it they were outside in the cool but muggy Gotham night air.**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce stuck close, okay with the crowd now. Invisible in it as he'd ever been. 

 

It was hard to not kiss Clark outside. But he didn't. 

 

“Hotel?”

 

He let Clark lead him across the street. 

 

“Hourly…?”

 

\--

 

**“Think so?” Clark said, holding Bruce's hand as they walked across the street and into the hotel. It wasn't the** **_nicest_ ** **looking place, but it would do for what they wanted.**

 

**Just like all the times before he would play mediator, taking the money from Bruce and buying what they wanted. Getting the key which was… something that looked like a credit card rather than an** **_actual_ ** **key.**

 

**… He handed it back to Bruce, confident he could figure it out.**

 

**\--**

 

…

 

Bruce took it without comment and pocketed the key. 

 

He'd head upstairs to their room, and saw the slots on the doors. 

 

Inserted the key. 

 

\--

 

**Clark stepped in first to check out the room, closing the door behind him once Bruce was inside.**

 

**…**

 

**It had been weeks. Weeks apart. Weeks thinking the other was dead.**

 

**It was time to make up for lost time.**


	9. THIS IS THE GAY SEX CHAPTER IF YOU WANT TO SKIP IT. NOTHING IN THIS CHAPTER HAPPENS BUT SEX SO IT IS EASILY SKIPPABLE.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS THE SMUT CHAPTER

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M FUCKING SERIOUS IF YOU WANT TO SKIP THE SEX SCENES, THIS IS THE CHAPTER THAT YOU NEED TO SKIP

Bruce waited until the door was closed. 

 

Then he pressed Clark into it, and kissed him, before sliding down to his knees.

  
  


\--

 

**Clark pressed back and kissed him hungrily. Before Bruce was even sliding down he was undoing his pants for him.**

 

**\--**

 

They'd had this figured out for a while now. This system to try and satisfy Clark enough without ruining Bruce each time. 

 

He was already stroking Clark and on his cock, feeling him start to get more aroused inside his mouth.

 

\--

 

**Clark never made it about** **_him_ ** **getting off. It was easy for him. He came faster and more often, and getting him exhausted from it just… wasn’t going to happen. Ever.**

 

**But that didn’t mean he didn’t enjoy Bruce** **_trying_ ** **, and he appreciated the effort.**

 

**His hands curled in Bruce’s hair and held his head, firm but not setting the pace.** **_Some_ ** **nights he liked to ruin his partner’s mouth, but only when they agreed on it and were ready for the consequences.**

 

**Tonight wasn’t one of those nights.**

 

**His hand held Bruce’s head and fingers curled through his hair, hips pushing and pulling away from his mouth while he watched from above.**

 

**Somehow it never got old.**

 

**\--**

 

Just because Clark didn't get exhausted from it didn't mean Bruce didn't want him to feel pleased with how much they'd done. 

 

But Clark was too easy to please sometimes. And as long as Bruce could keep going, he'd try to. It was a strange, aggressive form of being a service bottom, maybe. But he wasn't sure how to exist besides aggressively. 

 

And Clark could handle it, and deal back in kind. 

 

And Bruce let him control the pace. Trusted he wouldn't wreck him with a wrong thrust. 

 

Safe. 

 

He'd keep going, fumbling for the lube they'd packed in his pocket and reaching down his pants to start stretching himself as he worked to get Clark to his first climax.

 

\--

 

**Clark usually had a set pace in mind for this sort of thing. It was rough, but not** **_in-humanly_ ** **rough. Bruce wouldn’t have bruises in his throat, but he would certainly feel it. And when things grew hot Clark would let go of Bruce’s head and let him decide which he felt like doing,** **_trying_ ** **to swallow it all or taking his mouth off to make a mess.**

 

**… Both had their own appeal.**

 

**\--**

 

Right now, they were in a hotel and working on a limited amount of clothing, so--

 

So Bruce's one hand reached up to take Clark’s and put it back on his head. 

 

_ Help him stay on.  _

 

\--

 

**Clark did.**

 

**He pressed Bruce against his groin and came into his mouth. “Ffffuck, B.”**

 

**It was a lot, as Bruce knew. Nothing he couldn’t swallow as long as he tried, but it was still a little rough.**

 

**And when it was over he let his hand move away from his head so he could pull away and breathe.**

 

**\--**

 

It burned a little, going down. Not like alcohol, but like some drink that had sat in the sun too long. 

 

Everything about Clark was a little hotter than regular humanity. And Bruce definitely needed a few moments to breathe afterwards. 

 

When he was released he started gasping, and leaned his head against Clark’s thigh to balance himself as a shaky hand came up to try and stroke Clark a little in his brief aftermath. 

 

\--

 

**Clark only needed a few seconds to really ‘catch his breath’. It wasn’t even really that though, it was just a minute of fogginess that let him enjoy one orgasm before carrying into the next.**

 

**While Bruce caught his breath he took the time to peel off his shirt and toss them to the side, as well as finish taking off his shoes and pants and doing the same with those.**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce shifted as Clark started to undress and started to do the same, if a little slower while still catching his breath. 

 

“Where?” he asked, shedding his clothes and looking up from where he crouched on the floor. 

 

Bed? Carpet?

 

\--

 

**“Bed,” Clack mumbled out, arms swooping down and lifting Bruce up in his arms. He carried him the few steps to the bed and slid onto it, wrapping him up in burly arms and already covering his neck in kisses.**

 

**“God. I missed you so much.”**

 

**He slid his legs under Bruce’s ass, angling him upward so he could find where he wanted.**

 

**And he pushed himself inside.**

 

**\--**

 

“I missed--augh!” 

 

Bruce wrapped his arms around Clark’s neck with force that would bruise anyone else, twisting as he was penetrated. 

 

He'd always tried to stretch fast, but it had been almost a month, and he just wasn't as loose as he normally was. 

 

“Fuck… fuck--” he gasped out, trying to roll his hips back into Clark and ride out the stretch. 

 

\--

 

**Clark’s muscles tensed, “Shit, sorry.”**

 

**Not the first time it happened, but at least now he knew what to do. He rolled himself in time with Bruce, not pulling out or in yet, just moving around so it would stretch and get loose enough so it didn’t hurt.**

 

**“You were saying?” He gave a cheesy grin down at him.**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce shook his head. Swallowed hard. He was fine. He'd just--  needed a little more prep time. 

 

But fuck him for ever thinking about  _ not  _ not giving Clark anything he could, so he kept fucking himself backwards until it felt more good than painful and gasped out, “I missed you too,” on interspersed thrusts. 

 

“I wouldn't’ve let anyone touch me ever again…”

 

\--

 

**“Me neither…” Clark breathed, and once he felt like Bruce was loose enough, he started to fuck him.**

 

**It was slow at first. Working into it. But then after a few minutes his hips were slamming into Bruce while he felt every inch of his body with his hands and mouth.**

 

**It was like he had forgotten it and needed to remember.**

 

**\--**

 

Once Clark really got going, there wasn't much Bruce could do but hold on and lose himself in it, because he just physically  _ couldn't  _ keep up. As soon as he tried to meet a thrust it would have gone all the way out and was well on returning to slam deep inside him once more. 

 

There were still bruises on his body. Small round yellowed things from the tips of poles or faintly orange ones with purple centers from being hit into things, but they were far more healed than they'd been.

 

His face had been cleared and covered, but the other letters carved into him still stood out on raised skin. Scars on his arms. Some on his shoulders from accidents or fights. There was some fat on his abs when he was relaxed under Clark like this. 

 

He always felt strange under Clark like this: battered and scarred and a little helpless under a nearly-unmarred alien who could crush him if he wanted. But he wouldn't. 

 

Safe. 

 

\--

 

**Clark liked it when Bruce let himself go; when he had no choice but to let go. When he said he was beautiful like this he meant it, and often times he would find himself just watching him as they had sex.**

 

**Watched him sweat. Watched him breathe. Watched him muscles tense and relax.**

 

**One hand reached up to coil in Bruce's hair to grab it and force his head back s little so he could better kiss at his neck. He gave him new bruises, ones Bruce would be very acquainted with.**

 

**Hickeys, handprints on his hips and ass, and a deep soreness like you got after a vigorous workout.**

 

**And as it ended he would push himself hard into Bruce and let him feel the heat, urging him to come before he allowed himself to do the same.**

 

**\--**

 

This was the rule: 

 

If Bruce came long before Clark did, Clark still  _ wasn’t allowed to fucking stop _ .

 

And Bruce hadn’t had to ever  _ try  _ to hold out in comparison with Clark’s crazy timing. And so--

 

So by the time Clark was coming inside of him, Bruce was already dizzy-headed and gasping through the ends of his own orgasm, body along for the ride and just being shoved into the mattress with each bed-rattling thrust. 

 

\--

 

**As Clark finished he pressed their hips together tightly, shuddering on top of Bruce and hands squeezing his hips.**

 

**… And when it was over Clark still didn’t pull out. He rarely did.**

 

**He smoothed the sweaty hair from Bruce’s face and did a few more slow thrusts, kissing him and turning their positions so he could lay down beside his partner without pulling out.**

 

**Clark could always go a third round, but rarely took it that far. Instead he usually satisfied himself by just staying inside. Slow, relaxing movements back and forth with his hips that wouldn’t jar Bruce too much but still keep them both connected and aroused for just a little while.**

 

**\--**

 

Usually Bruce would’ve tried to make Clark come again before being fucked, but-- 

 

But clearly Clark had been ready to go. 

 

Bruce was jittery in the aftermath now, exhausted and sensitive and raw from being felt over inside and out. But he let his head lay back on Clark’s shoulder as he was moved, closing his eyes and slinging one leg over Clark’s hips to keep himself open. To give room to move. 

 

He promised he’d always be able to handle whatever Clark needed when he had to let loose. He had no intention of breaking that promise. 

 

He’d yet to regret it, either. 

 

\--

 

**Clark closed his eyes and breathed in his partner’s smell, holding him close and slowly moving his hips lazily.**

 

**He had missed him so much.**

 

**He couldn’t even think of what a life would be without Bruce anymore. And yeah, that was dangerous in their line of work, but-**

 

**…**

 

**It just wasn’t something he would ever accept.**

 

**“I love you,” he whispered, burying his face in Bruce’s hair, his beard scratching along pale skin.**

 

**\--**

 

(it was a lot easier to stay alive these recent years, once highschool had ended, and Clark had become an actual fixture in his life.)

 

“I know…” he mumbled, taking the little thrusts and sometimes squeezing himself around Clark, already too full between the ejaculate and the sheer size of the alien.

 

\--

 

**(It had bothered Clark once upon a time that Bruce never said ‘I love you’. But it had only taken a couple of years for him to realize he said it in different ways.)**

 

**“... How long do you want to rest?”**

 

**They had only bought a few hours, but it was up to Bruce whether or not they would even still be able to get ice cream for the sake of tradition before heading back.**

 

**\--**

 

(he didn’t know if he would ever be able to say it and not have it taste like a lie, but at the very least, he could tell himself he didn’t want to leave Clark’s side, and feel it ring true.)

 

He closed his eyes and let himself be rocked still by the gentle thrusts, having to try and think. 

 

“...s’ the shower area clean…?”

 

\--

 

**Clark turned and looked over towards the bathroom, looking through the wall and into the tub.**

 

**“S’as clean as an hourly hotel in Gotham is ever gonna get.” He smirked, kissing his neck.**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce snorted. 

 

“...you can keep going if you hold me up, and we’ll see about spraying us down, maybe?”

 

\--

 

**He thought about that for a second. Something inside him always felt a little guilty for needing at least three orgasms before he was truly satisfied. He wondered if that was a normal kryptonian thing.**

 

**“... Alright,” he said finally, and repositioned them both so he could carry Bruce into the bathroom.**

 

**\--**

 

It really wasn’t a problem when they could pace it right or had enough time. But. 

 

...three weeks of each thinking the other was dead maybe left them both a little desperate.

 

Being shifted around with a dick still inside him was a strange and shaky experience, but he clung onto Clark for the ride and tried to not be distracting for a few seconds until they were by the tub, and he reached out with a shaky and quick hand to get the water flowing already and warm so he could be put down and not be resting halfway between things. 

 

\--

 

**Clark waited until it was warm enough to step inside and ease Bruce out of his arms again, back onto his own feet.**

 

**“It won’t take me too long,” he promised, hands going back to Bruce’s hips while positioning behind him.**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce nodded, shaky on his feet. He braced his hands on the wall and let out a rattling breath, still in his recovery stage. 

 

“Okay…” 

 

He was ready.

 

\--

 

**… It wasn’t the brutal fucking Bruce was used to. They were both coming down off their emotions, and really this was just a means to an end now.**

 

**He pressed their skin together as it grew hot and wet and started thrusting. It wasn’t crazed or powerful, it was calm and regulated. Both of them had got what they wanted already.**

 

**And after a few minutes pressed together in the heat of the shower Bruce would feel it and Clark would pull out to come into the shower.**

 

**\--**

 

...after what he was used to, it was almost steadying. 

 

He leaned himself against the wall and just let the water pour over him, cleaning him off as Clark finished inside him. He wound up half-hard again by the end, but it wasn’t worth it to finish off.

 

He leaned back against Clark once he was pulled out, sighing and trusting he’d be held up, and reached down with a shaking hand to try and clean himself out.

 

\--

 

**Clark was there to be a warm wall to rest against.**

 

**He held Bruce up and pushed back his hair, cleaning himself off too.**

 

**“... You still wanna get ice cream?”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope there were enough warnings u_u


	10. idk they're just walkin

_Previously (in a shower stall, together) :_

_“... You still wanna get ice cream?”_

 

**\--**

 

God. 

 

All that endurance training Ra’s had put him through and Bruce was still ready to curl up in a ball under the warm stream of water and fall asleep. 

 

“Maybe get it to go,” he mumbled, pleased.

 

\--

 

**Clark smiled, “We can do that. Eat it on the walk back to the man-- uh… lake… house. Thing.”**

 

**It was still weird the manor was gone.**

 

**\--**

 

...that reminder was definitely a bitter pill to swallow after having finally gotten blissed out for a few minutes. 

 

“...yeah. You may be the one doing the walking for part of it, though.”

 

\--

 

**“That’s okay. I like carrying you.”**

 

**He finished washing off and waited until Bruce looked finished to turn off the water and grab them both towels.**

 

**\--**

 

Just a rinse. ...wouldn’t take too long. He could get another real shower back in the cave. 

 

...and then he paused, stiff, realizing he’d washed his makeup off. 

 

“...yeah. It’ll be a nice walk.” 

 

\--

 

**Clark felt him go stiff.**

 

**“What’s wro--”**

 

**… Oh.**

 

**“Oh.” He said dumbly upon seeing the ‘J’ on Bruce’s cheek.**

 

**…**

 

**“It’s dark out.”**

 

**No one would notice.**

 

**\--**

 

...he was so used to  _ having  _ things with him. To having a bag full of extra makeup and bandages and items, or his belt, or hidden compartments in his car, in his rooms, in his offices--

 

He was using to having things  _ already in place _ , and when it was time to prepare and go out, he’d just… go. And know he’d already taken the time to prepare for an uncertain future. 

 

And then he came here. And none of those things were ready to catch him. 

 

...he tried to nod to Clark’s answer. Wondered if the icecream parlor would have lights. He could stand outside, maybe? Would one of the drag queens across the street lend him makeup without having to see the thing on his face--

 

He took the towel from Clark and quietly dried off. 

 

“Yeah. I’ll… keep out of the lights.”

 

It was what he was good at, anyway…

 

(even if he was supposed to be able to walk  _ with  _ Clark tonight, and be seen. Even if no one here associated this scar with Batman, who didn’t  _ care  _ what people thought, who would kiss Superman in front of the cameras and look pleased about it. Who showed up with a new scar on his face and treated it as any battle scar. Not Bruce Wayne, who’d been captured and branded, and had to hide any imperfection because he didn’t lead a life that should’ve made him  _ broken  _ somehow.)

 

(God why the fuck had this soured so fast?)

 

(He’d been in  _ such  _ a good mood, and now…)

 

\--

 

**… It was hard seeing Bruce’s mood dip so fast.**

 

**Clark dried off and stepped out of the shower to grab their clothes, gathering them up and setting Bruce’s in a pile on the bed where he could get them easily.**

 

**“Is there anything I can do? Maybe run into a store and grab some concealer for you…? Ask someone?”**

 

**He didn’t want Bruce to be miserable.**

 

**\--**

 

It was just. Swings. 

 

Whenever it got high on one end, it felt so much easier to fall back to the other. 

 

… 

 

“...there was the butch at the club,” Bruce said after a moment, voice soft. “She said ask if we needed anything. She might not have makeup, but… maybe she’ll know someone we can borrow from.”

 

\--

 

**Clark nodded, “We can ask her.** **_I_ ** **can ask her.”**

 

**So he wouldn’t need to be seen.**

 

**He pulled on his pants. “Try not to worry about it, okay? Remember no one knows here.”**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce nodded. 

 

Started to pull his own clothes back on, too. 

 

“I know…”

 

… 

 

“I’ll have to come down anyway. We can’t just… take someone’s makeup from the club.”

 

… 

 

He grabbed a few pieces of toilet paper and held them to his cheek, as if protecting a scab that had opened up.

 

This would do for now.

 

\--

 

**Clark finished getting dressed and…**

 

**…**

 

**He smoothed back whatever hair clung to Bruce’s forehead and kissed it.**

 

**Bruce knew that the scar didn’t effect how Clark saw him, that much was obvious. He just hoped that would help him get through being in public with it for a few minutes while they found some makeup.**

 

**\--**

 

He closed his eyes and relaxed a little under the kiss. 

 

… “I’ll be fine. Just feel stupid for forgetting to bring backups.”

 

\--

 

**“It’s not your fault. We don’t exactly have…** **_anything_ ** **right now.”**

 

**Clark finished getting dressed and waited for Bruce before taking his free hand to lead him back out of the hotel.**

 

**\--**

 

Check out. Return the key. 

 

Ignore the new hickeys on his neck. This world hadn’t given him a scarf or turtleneck. 

 

He’d been sure he’d survive a few marks. He just had forgotten the Important one. 

 

Back to the club, holding the folded paper to his cheek and Clark’s hand like a lifeline.

 

\--

 

**Clark held his hand tightly as they entered the club for a second time and he wasted no time in finding Amanda sat around another older woman done up in makeup.**

 

**“Miss Amanda?” he asked in his best Kansas, “I actually do have a favor to ask you.”**

 

**He kept Bruce slightly behind him, acting like a wall between him and the world.**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce kept his eyes down. Didn’t hold himself as close as he had before, trying to feel like he wasn’t hiding even if he  _ was.  _

 

Would they be able to tell he’d lost something of makeup on his face? Was it normal in 2020 for boys to wear makeup if they weren’t in drag--

 

He tried to ignore the older woman’s eyes, too. More of a stranger than even Amanda-who’d-only-introduced-herself was. 

 

Fuck. 

 

\--

 

**The conversation went fast.**

 

**Clark asked if they had any makeup his boyfriend could borrow. Concealer.**

 

**It was like a light had gone off over their heads, even if the reason for wanting it wasn’t what they thought.**

 

**There were plenty of boys who wanted to hide the evidence of what went on here before they went home.**

 

**The older woman rooted around in her purse but couldn’t find any. She leaned over to another, who leaned to another--**

 

**And soon there was concealer being passed between them and handed to Clark.**

 

**He thanked them and promised to return it as soon as Bruce was finished, then turned to lead his partner towards the bathrooms.**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce didn’t need any encouragement. 

 

He said a quiet ‘thanks’ and hurried off with Clark, slipping into the bathroom and leaning up against the counter to look in the mirror, only then finally taking the napkin off and starting to apply.

 

It was a little bit off for his skintone, but it would do for the night.

 

\--

 

**Thankfully the men’s room was empty when they got in, and just in case Clark held the door shut while Bruce applied the makeup.**

 

**“Is it working okay?”**

 

**\--**

 

God it was nice to have someone with super strength around sometimes. 

 

“It’ll do for nighttime,” Bruce said. “I might still hang out outside the parlor to avoid the lights, but… if it’s just street lamps, it won’t draw much attention…”

 

...realizing what the women expected him to be covering it, he also moved down to brush it over his neck and hide some of Clark’s markings.

 

\--

 

**“Worst comes to worst I’ll just order for you while you wait.” Clark said, and the handle of the bathroom door moved, but the door itself didn’t even budge. He leaned up against it and said, “Sorry! Just a second!”**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce rushed through concealing his neck. 

 

“It’s okay. Let them in. Yeah, I’ll wait outside.”

 

\--

 

**Clark let them in, smiling nervously and apologizing while Bruce finished his makeup. He came up behind him to look.**

 

**“Doesn’t look bad.”**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce gave him a wry look. “You have no idea what makeup looks like,” he said, but turned around to kiss Clark before capping the concealer again. “...it’ll get us home, at least.”

 

\--

 

**“Nope!” Clark grinned and kissed him back before walking out of the bathroom again.**

 

**He took the concealer so he could hand it back and thank them again.**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce walked out with his back straighter again, and even though he knew Clark wanted to hold hands in public, he felt a little freer now and for the bar, at least, he would keep his hands to the side. 

 

“Thanks,” he told Amanda and her friend. Partner?  

 

(he realized he didn’t know, here.)

 

“Sorry. I forgot mine.”

 

\--

 

**“That’s alright honey.” She said, taking the concealer back. “You two be careful out there alright?”**

 

**It was depressing that even here, so far in the future, she had to say that for two men doing little else but walking home together.**

 

**\--**

 

….well. This world was a shithole. 

 

They would make theirs better. 

 

“We will,” he said. “...can I ask a question, first, though?”

 

\--

 

**“Go ahead.”**

 

**She smiled up at him with her ruby red lipstick and dark, shadowy eyes. Amanda, the women they knew, casually put an arm around her shoulders.**

 

**Partners.**

 

**\--**

 

He wished he had a better question to ask them. Something like ‘how long have you been together,’ or ‘is there anything we can do to help?’

 

But instead all he had was, “...does Batman protect people like us?”

 

\--

 

**The question seemed to catch both of them a little off guard. It surprised Clark a little too.**

 

**“... I would say so?” The one said, looking at her partner for confirmation.**

 

**“Oh yeah, he’s come down and helped a few people I know. Early on, before gay rights were anything where they are now, we’d get targeted for muggings and shit like that all the time. If he’s in the area he comes down from wherever he’s perched to help out. Got a couple kids out of abusive homes and into more accepting spaces too.” The butch said.**

 

**“He’s an ally to us, that I’m pretty confident of.”**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce wasn’t sure really what he’d been expecting, but something in his chest loosened a bit. 

 

(not an obviously biased Superman trying to apologize for shortcomings. Not an angry man defending himself. Not one shunned father figure comparing them, or another who Bruce could only feel he’d disappointed by not living up to his family. People who didn’t…  _ know  _ him. But who had known of him.)

 

He could hold Clark’s hand again. He found himself doing it. 

 

“...okay. Thanks. I just… I used to live here. Guess I just always wondered.”

 

\--

 

**Clark squeezed his hand.**

 

**The femme smiled and nodded at him. “Welcome back home, honey. You ever need anything else you know where to look.”**

 

**There was something in her face he would be able to notice right away.**

 

**Gotham Pride.**

 

**It was a strange phenomenon for such a messed up city, but it was there for a lot of its residents.**

 

**\--**

 

Sometimes it took and took and took until you were more in the pavement you’d been beaten into than you were in your own body, and it made you part of a place. 

 

And maybe that was called love. 

 

This kind of smile came easy and natural to him, and softened his whole face. Lit him up the way Clark usually glowed.

 

Gotham Pride. 

 

“Thanks,” he said. “It’s good to be back.”

 

\--

 

**…**

 

**Clark thanked them again and waved as he slowly lead Bruce back out of the club, unable to hide the smile on his face either just at seeing his partner light up the way he did.**

 

**He could only assume it was the same love he felt for Smallville.**

 

**The place you took root, even if abused you like Gotham did. You always took it along with you.**

 

**Bruce would always be Gotham.**

 

**Clark would always be a spit on the map from Kansas.**

 

**And nothing could change that.**

 

**\--**

 

Maybe it was a brand of survivorship. 

 

Maybe the only reason Gotham Pride seemed to burn brighter was the world around it being so cold and dark. 

 

But Bruce should know better than anyone: you could make a home in the shadows. 

 

They headed out to the icecream parlor in far better spirits than they’d entered the bar, and held hands. 

 

Bruce wanted a chocolate shake, and handed Clark another twenty, not sure how much prices would’ve changed. 

 

And he’d wait outside for Clark to come back for him, at ease even alone in the Gotham night.

 

\--

 

**They were lucky that it looked like ice cream parlours often had… drive thru type windows now? So even though Bruce stood a little ways back he didn’t need to be completely alone.**

 

**Chocolate shake and vanilla shake. Just like old times.**

 

**When it was done Clark walked back to Bruce and handed his.**

 

**“You still want that piggyback ride?”**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce snorted. 

 

“I’ll last ‘til city limits, probably,” he said, taking his shake. “Should stretch it out, anyway… but all the way to the lakehouse is probably gonna be too much.”

 

\--

 

**He chuckled, “Okay.”**

 

**…**

 

**Reached out for Bruce’s hand again, sipped on his shake, and started to walk.**

 

**Even if he didn’t have the same pride in Gotham as Bruce did, that didn’t mean he hated it. It was** **_his_ ** **city in the sense that he lived here. His partner lived here. He was its protector.**

 

**So walking along, holding Bruce’s hand in the dark was no issue for him.**

 

**\--**

 

…

 

It was nice, walking through the city on ground level, even if after the bar and that talk, he  _ was  _ kind of itching to kick some mugger’s ass. 

 

But… 

 

Not tonight, he guessed. Unless it happened right in front of them.

 

But it didn’t, and they walked home uneventfully. 

 

…

 

When they came in, Alfred was still awake, and stormed towards the room they entered through before even Clark could pick up something wrong. 

 

“God,” Alfred said. “Good. You’re alright.”

 

\--

 

**Clark blinked, removing the straw from his mouth and swallowing the last of his shake. He had just set Bruce back on his feet from carrying the last stretch.**

 

**“We left a note?”**

 

**Did he not see it?**

 

**\--**

 

Alfred looked… angry. 

 

“Yes, we know. But we had no way of contacting you, and--”

 

He put a hand on his face for just a moment and calmed down, the way Batman sometimes did, organizing his thoughts. 

 

“...it’s fine. What’s important is you’re safe. Ra’s seems to have moved.”

 

\--

 

**Clark looked… guilty.**

 

**“Where is he?”**

 

**Apologies for later.**

 

**\--**

 

Alfred looked… distressed. Even after calming himself. 

 

Distressed. 

 

“Gone, now,” he said. “By the time the alarm arrived, they were gone. I’ve been sweeping the house and cave to see if there was any way they’d come here, too, but it… appears to be safe.”

 

\--

 

**Clark’s eyes glowed blue and he started to sweep the house and cave too. Just in case.**

 

**“What exactly happened?”**

 

**Business mode.**

 

**\--**

 

No. Bruce narrowed his eyes a little, watching the butler’s face and mannerisms. He and Clark were in business mode, but Alfred seemed to be… struggling with it, even though he’d been all business from the day after Bruce’s parents had died and never faltered since. 

 

“...a body has been stolen,” Alfred said.

 

\--


	11. portal 1 open

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ye

“...a body has been stolen,” Alfred said.

 

\--#

 

**… Clark blinked, “What.”**

 

**\--**

 

Alfred closed his eyes. 

 

“...I’m afraid this isn’t something you can likely help with. Please… return to your room. Mister Kent has been called and should be here soon, and we will… handle the situation from there.”

 

\--

 

**…**

 

**Clark looked at Bruce, because he** **_didn’t_ ** **want to just sit and wait for this to pan out, but they weren’t getting answers.**

 

**“And where’s Batman?”**

 

**\--**

 

...that was, perhaps, the worst question. 

 

“...he’s at the Mausoleum,” Alfred said softly. 

 

And beside him, Bruce went still.

 

\--

 

**Even Clark did.**

 

**…**

 

**“... Bruce. Let’s-- let’s head to the cave.”**

 

**He tried to guide him in that direction.**

 

**\--**

 

“...yeah. Yeah. Sorry, Alfred. We’ll stay downstairs.”

 

He shuffled, numbly, in the direction Clark was guiding him, fingers cold in a way that had nothing to do with his milkshake.

 

\--

 

**Clark squeezed Bruce’s shoulders as they headed to the elevator and went down.**

 

**He didn’t say anything.**

 

**He just wanted to keep an eye on Bruce. Make sure he kept his head on his shoulders.**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce quietly headed back to their given room. Sat down on the bed. Kicked his shoes off. 

 

Lay down. 

 

“...hey,” he said. “We should. Probably watch something before bed.”

 

Numb. But pain wouldn’t help this. 

 

Maybe time would.

 

\--

 

**Clark did the same, kicking off his shoes. Already reaching for the tablet.**

 

**“Yeah, good idea.”**

 

**He climbed in beside him and helped him find something that would keep his interest while he tried to sleep.**

 

**And he would watch Bruce all night, barely sleeping a wink on his own.**

 

**…**

 

**Above Superman would land as quickly as he could.**

 

**He already knew the general idea of what had happened.**

 

**The thought made him sick.**

 

**\--**

 

…

 

Batman, as Alfred had said, was already there. On his knees and unmoving, arms wrapped around himself, even in the batsuit, as if unaware of who or where he was.

 

Outside the Wayne Mausoleum, where last September, like the one before, they had sat together, and burned fallen wood, and waited until night had long fallen and the stars were out, and just sat quietly with the graves, weeding and placing flowers on the cleared grounds and the Mausoleums’ stone coffins. 

 

….the Mausoleum was intact. 

 

The small, regular grave beside it, though, was empty.

 

Nothing but a hole. Dirt ripped up and scattered. Headstone crooked. Wooden coffin shattered and lid torn open. 

 

On Jason Todd’s grave, a simple note was left. 

 

_ ‘A son for a son.’  _

 

\--

 

**Superman landed a few strides away.**

 

**…**

 

**He approached slowly, like he was afraid that simply walking on the ground would sully it more than it had already been.**

 

**“... Bruce,” he said quietly, getting closer, standing just behind him.**

 

**“... I’m sorry. We’ll get him back.”**

 

**(** **_He had left for only one day.)_ **

 

**\--**

 

...it may have been hard to tell with the suit. 

 

Under the plated armor, Bruce’s shoulders were shaking. 

 

….

 

He shook his head. 

 

( _ couldn’t even keep him safe in death. _ )

 

\--

 

**“We will.” Superman insisted, crouching down and daring to put his hands on Bruce’s shoulders.**

 

**\--**

 

He shook his head. 

 

(shaking under Clark’s hands.)

 

“...no,” he said finally. Forced it out. “...it’s better like this. Ends the feud without death.”

 

He sounded like he was dying.

 

\--

 

**“Bruce, he’s your son. We can help bring him home. You don’t have to do this alone. We can figure out another way to end the feud.”**

 

**He stayed where he was, knelt beside Bruce with his hands on his shoulders.**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce didn’t move at all. Not to look over at Clark. Not to stop holding himself. Not to do anything. 

 

“...if he focuses on me, then no one else gets hurt.”

 

\--

 

**…**

 

**Clark shifted so he was more comfortable on his knees and reached around Bruce to hug him tightly.**

 

**There was nothing more he could say if Bruce was set in his decision, but he knew it was killing him inside.**

 

**And there was nothing he could do other than just… be there.**

 

**\--**

 

...Bruce wouldn’t remember getting back to the lakehouse. He didn’t remember getting to bed. When he woke up he wouldn’t move. 

 

The theft would go unreported. 

 

The lakehouse would be quiet for the morning.

 

\--

 

**Clark didn’t dare leave Bruce alone right now.**

 

**He called off work after Bruce was asleep so he wouldn’t feel guilty about it and then slipped right into bed alongside him.**

 

**Neither super would get much sleep that night, watching over their friend like they were afraid the emotional turmoil would make them start cracking and crumbling like porcelain.**

 

**He could tell when Bruce woke up but didn’t get out of bed right away. Instead he would roll over and hug him if he would take it, and get up to at least set some water by his bed in the hopes he would drink.**

 

**\--**

 

It was called a Prince Rupert’s Drop. A piece of hardened glass which could survive anything when hit at the head: bullets, sledge hammers, chisels-- but the smallest nick at the tail end would shatter it explosively. 

 

That was a little bit of what it was like to be around either Bruce. And Ra’s had come up behind this world’s Bruce and shattered the tail with precision. 

 

… 

 

The other world’s Bruce was a little better when the morning came, and he learned it was not his parents’ bodies that had been stolen (better than when their memory was disgraced), but still the idea of grave robbing as a retaliation was… unsettling, to say the least. 

 

Even if he was doing a little better, he still… hid in the room with Clark. Unwilling to impose or get in the way of Anything that was happening outdoors.

 

\--

 

**Overall it was an… intense day.**

 

**The younger Clark stayed downstairs with his partner. They could shower and maybe work out a little. Watch more movies. But he wasn’t willing to impose either. Not after something so horrible had happened. Even if he didn’t really like this world’s Batman that was no reason why he would be happy about someone stealing the body of his kid.**

 

**… Upstairs Superman worked hand-in-hand with Alfred to try and keep things afloat.**

 

**He turned on the TV and put the volume on low, hoping that the noise would get Bruce to maybe glance up a little every now and then. He opened the curtains a bit so things weren’t completely dark. Occasionally he would sit beside him and just rub his arm or back.**

 

**Clark didn’t ask him anything. Didn’t make him talk. He didn’t even make him eat or drink.**

 

**Maybe he didn’t know grief in the amount that Bruce did, but he** **_did_ ** **know it. When his father had died he had stopped eating or speaking and hiked in the most inhospitable parts of the world because he didn’t know what else to do.**

 

**Because there wasn’t anything else** **_to_ ** **do when you felt so terrible.**

 

**So if Bruce didn’t want to do anything? If he felt like there wasn’t anything he could even think about doing?**

 

**That was okay for now.**

 

**He would be given time to grieve a second time for his dead son.**

 

**\--**

 

...Bruce was  _ so tired  _ of grieving. 

 

He lay in bed for a while, and ate the breakfast he was given. He took his pills. 

 

He took his paperwork to bed, and sat propped up against his headboard, trying to focus on reading. Taking notes. 

 

He forced down a dinner that Alfred made despite anyone’s protests. 

 

(Bruce had learned how to Deal from Alfred, too.)

 

...and when it was starting to get close to sundown, Bruce went downstairs, and pulled on his suit. 

 

As if it were any other day. 

 

Quiet and asocial. 

 

\--

 

**… Clark always hated it when Bruce went out in this state of mind. He always worried that it would be the end. That Bruce just** **_wouldn’t care enough_ ** **to get back up, or be so aggressive that it would get him killed.**

 

**But he let him go with only the quiet assurance that he would stay behind and watch over everything.**

 

**\--**

 

He wasn’t wrong. 

 

But Bruce wasn’t allowed to just let himself die. 

 

So he would drag himself back. Hate it all the while. But he would come back and come back until something finally stopped him. And hopefully he wouldn’t thank it on his way out. 

 

(“he spirals,” Nightwing had said, a warning.)

 

(this was the sort of spiral that had killed Superman almost four years ago. Despair and hopelessness. But at least, this time, there was no clear path to vengeance.)

 

… 

 

He wouldn’t be recovered by the time Cyborg came back with news. 

 

‘Superman?’ came in, spelled out over the computers. ‘I think we have a way through.’

 

\--

 

**Maybe he wouldn’t be recovered, but at least it was something to distract with.**

 

**He breathed out a sigh of relief at the words across the computer screen. “Thank god finally some good news. What did you find out?”**

 

**\--**

 

The League knew…  _ something  _ had happened with Batman. But unless Superman spilled, they were operating on a ‘it’s too raw to know’ basis. 

 

Of course, Bruce had barely told him his son had existed in the  _ first  _ place. So perhaps not mentioning the body theft was par for the course. 

 

‘The zeta tech is compatible with the motherbox,’ Cyborg said. ‘I should be able to create portals for travel with the readings and coordinates you have on file by hooking the transmitter to my arm and changing destinations. As long as they have a receiver-zeta, I can connect to it from your transmitter and we should be able to travel freely between portals.’

 

\--

 

**“You’re a genius, Victor.” Superman grinned. “I’ll let B know ASAP and we’ll contact you once everything is ready.”**

 

**This was still all a little beyond him. He knew they were going to need to jump into the other world to figure out how to get** **_these kids_ ** **home, but he wasn’t sure what the specifics of that were.**

 

**A meetup would fix that though. Put all their ducks in a row.**

 

**_Distract Bruce_ ** **.**

 

**\--**

 

A meeting it was. 

 

Diana had been involved in the rescue and would hate to not know the result and want a chance to say goodbye, and so they opened the meeting to her. Victor was necessary. Clark and Bruce were already wrapped up. Barry was called in for evacuation efforts in the event of a large failure. 

 

And because all of them were already there, they just fuckin…. Told Arthur about it. 

 

Not that he would show. 

 

But regardless. They got the group together for a meeting, and a dead-eyed Batman opened it by gesturing to the two Other presences in the cave.

 

“Most of you met the alternative Superman earlier in the month. His Batman was successfully rescued. They’ve been in recovery. Once we open the portal, we’re not done; we don’t have their world’s location, only a mediary world which we know  _ does  _ have the capability to send them back. Once we open the portal to the mediary world, we contact that world’s Justice League. Kent, that’ll be up to you. They already know you well by now. They should hopefully cooperate and agree to help send the two back. Following some datamining, they will help return Clark. For the third time.”

 

Fucking….  _ portal  _ bullshit. 

 

The other world’s Batman stood close to his Superman, his repaired suit on but helmet off, watching with twitchy eyes and his scar uncovered, looking over this world’s League mostly-assembled for the first time.

 

\--

 

**The younger Superman was also in his suit, although his goggles were pushed up into his hair with much more maintained black curls falling into them.**

 

**He had cleaned himself up once he knew they were potentially heading home.**

 

**“Are we going with Superman first or waiting until he comes back, then going through?” Clark asked.**

 

**\--**

 

Maybe because he hadn’t really seen them in person, Victor couldn’t help but keep glancing towards them with Barry. 

 

They’d been here a month, but seeing a pair so different and so much younger than the two he’d come to know was… kind of trippy. 

 

“You’ll go through with Superman,” Batman answered, voice gruff. He hadn’t been resting it, or anything else. “You’re the only relics of your world we have. They’ll have to trace it through you.”

 

\--

 

**Barry was… very not-subtle about it either.**

 

**_So weird_ ** **.**

 

  1. **Weird.**



 

**“Going through also has the chance to be rather rough. You’re going to want to hold onto Batman when we go through and brace yourself just in case.” Superman said, looking between the two younger ones.**

 

**\--**

 

“Are you going to lose me in a goddamn time portal,” the young Batman said, scarred-up unmasked face hiding almost none of the emotion that his older self did. Even if that emotion was disbelief and discomfort.

 

\--

 

**His Superman suddenly looked grim.**

 

**“No, but I’ve been flung into buildings and across the desert twice. It packs a lot of momentum. You’ll need Superman to slow you down if that happens.” Clark said.**

 

**\--**

 

His head fell backwards and he muttered a quiet, “Goddamnit,” but seemed to accept that. “...and if you can’t control the descent, how likely do you think Clark can?” 

 

He hadn’t seen this Superman fly. He didn’t know what kind of comparisons they had. 

 

\--

 

**“I’m not sure, I haven’t seen enough of his abilities to compare the two of us.” Clark said, and Superman sucked in a breath through his nose before letting it out in a long--**

 

**“Greeeeeeeat.”**

 

**\--**

 

Batman elbowed him in the gut, as if it would actually wind him. 

 

“...I believe it would be worth it to compare,” Diana said, looking at the two youths before back to Clark. “...when we were fighting the League of Assassins, Superman used his heat vision regularly. But the burn was nothing worse than first degree.”

 

(this world’s Bruce looked up in interest. Startled.)

 

\--

 

**Clark looked interested too. “Really?”**

 

**The younger Superman just looked between all of them, having not known that was… a thing that didn’t happen here apparently?**

 

**“... Okay. What would you want me to do then?”**

 

**\--**

 

The scarred Batman was… also confused. 

 

Why would they get so upset about Clark burning someone’s arms off if they thought it wasn’t avoidable?

 

“...flight seems most relevant, right now,” he said. “...what kind of force would you say is throwing you when you exit the portal?” 

 

\--

 

**Clark had to think about that. He didn’t have much to compare it to.**

 

**“It could be comparable to being thrown by another kryptonian.” He finally settled with.**

 

**\--**

….well, fuck. 

“Okay,” Batman said. “Good thing we’ve got two. We test your throw strength, see if it’s comparible, and have you two chuck each other over the lake; sound good?” 

Bruce was making  _ such  _ a face at the younger one usurping making plans.

\--

**“Nice!” Superman was already pulling his goggles down.**

**Clark opened his mouth but… couldn’t think of anything that was a better plan.**

**He looked at Bruce.**

**\--**

“Throw strength on the ground  _ first _ , hotshot,” Batman was saying with an easy grin. 

(Victor was wondering what kind of steampunk dystopia they came from with that visor and those goggles.)

Bruce just looked… tired. 

“... fine. I’ll get the collision testers.”

He got up and trudged off to some other dark part of the cave.

\--

**Clark hung his head.**

**“God I’m so glad you guys called me here.” Barry said, almost jittering with excitement over getting to watch two** ** _aliens_** **_chuck each other_** **.**

**And in a controlled environment!! Where no one would get hurt! Nice!**

**\--**

Batman cocked his head a little, listening in, even if all he would hear was Victor huffing in agreement and saying, “Arthur’s missin’ ooout,” as they waited for this world’s Bruce to return. 

\--

**“Maybe if we tell him what happened today he’ll start dragging his wet butt out of the ocean to come to our get-togethers.” Barry grinned.**

**Clark just looked at Diana. “Can I blame you for this one?”**

**\--**

Diana looked at him with innocent eyes. 

“I don’t understand what you want to blame me for at all.”

\--

**… Clark sighed.**

**And groaned.**

**And leaned his head back.**

**“Man you’re really torn up about this,” his younger self said, “Afraid I’m gonna chuck your butt further than you can chuck mine?”**

**\--**

“Knowing this world?” Batman mumbled, almost under his breath. “It’s probably traumatic. God I wish I was making a joke right now.”

“It will be good to have someone to test yourself against,” Diana said, reaching out to place a gentle hand on Clark’s arm. “And perhaps you can learn from each other. This is the value of a good partner.”

\--

**Clark gave Diana a look that told her he** **_knew_ ** **she was right, but also-**

**_Ugh._ **

**\--**

...Diana frowned a little, and stood from her place. 

She gestured for Clark to follow her. 

“ _ Is  _ there something wrong?” she asked, leading him to the computer, making as if to show him something, leaving the four closest in age together. 

(and Batman very suddenly felt like he was back in Smallville, trotting around behind Clark as he entertained his friends.)

\--

**“No. Not really. Just been dealing with a lot of stuff. Pulled a little thin. I’ll be fine.” Clark said quietly, not wanting Bruce to overhear. Diana would know that he had been keeping a close eye on Bruce lately. She was the only one of the group that knew the extent of what had happened.**

**(Superman felt the same. These guys weren’t** **_his_ ** **friends. It was awkward.)**

**“Ssssssooo what’s with the logos and stuff?” Barry finally asked, rocking back a little on his heels.**

**\--**

Diana nodded, grim smile in place. 

“...I will watch over him today. Just do your best. Besides.” She took his hand. Squeezed. “Perhaps something like this will… help distract him while still making him feel useful.”

Behind them, Batman was trying not to make a face. “...It’s just one logo. Our logo. No ‘s’.” 

They’d never been separate.

\--

**Clark smiled, grateful. He placed a hand over her’s. “Thank you. I’m hoping it will be too. He just needs a distraction.”**

**“... Multiple. Ongoing. Distractions.”**

**He sighed and rubbed his eyes.**

**“So you never-” Barry began, but shook his head and decided to ask something else. “Why the robocop helmet?”**

**\--**

Diana gave a little laugh. “...I’m sure between the six of us, we can give him some sort of distraction.”

…he wasn’t sure why that name sounded familiar. Glanced up at Superman. “...Robocop?”

\--

**Clark huffed, “I hope so.”**

**“That’s that new movie that just came out.” Superman said, looking down at Batman. “A cop turned into a robot after an accident or something? There’s previews of it on TV sometimes. Special effects look pretty good.”**

**Barry slowly. Turned to look at Victor.**

**\--**

“ _ Oh _ ,” Batman said.  _ Still in theaters _ went unsaid. “...have I been plagiarized…?”

Victor looked… pretty startled, too. 

“...Y’all. Robocop came out like thirty years ago.”

“Yeah? Was it 1987?” Batman asked. 

And Victor nodded, a little dumbfounded. 

“Okay, yeah. For us, it won’t be out on video ‘til next year probably. So for the record: I did it first, and have done it for years, and it helps with stealth missions and protects my eyes from shrapnel.”

\--

**“W-O-W!” Barry said much too loudly, leaning backwards. “I didn’t know you guys were from the 80’s! That explains** **_so much_ ** **.”**

**It didn’t really. It only explained the ages. Too late to take it back now.**

**\--**

Batman leaned back, eyes squinting. 

“...I  _ really  _ don’t know how to take that,” he said. 

\--

**Barry put his hands up, “BEST possible way. I'm just-- I've never seen Batman or Superman young y'know? So it makes sense. I'm-- wow what's taking him so long?”**

**Barry darted away to find Bruce and get away from the awkward conversation he had started.**

**Superman jumped a little at how fast the guy was and turned to look at Batman with wide eyes.**

**\--**

“Wow,” Batman said after a long moment. “Usually I like ‘em easily spooked, but I feel bad just for looking at him normally?” 

Diana was leading their Clark back now, hand still on his arm, and took in the lack of Barry and Victor holding his face and shaking his head. 

“...will Barry be okay?” 

“He’s fine,” Victor said. “Too many feet in his mouth at once.”

(on the other side of the cave, Bruce had several small boxes in his arms, but had gotten stuck at the suit of armor. Robin’s suit. 

...the sight of Barry got him moving again. And he started his shuffling return to the table.)

\--

**Clark smiled and rolled his eyes. Poor kid.**

**Barry hadn't stopped at Bruce, zooming right back into his spot again.**

**“Found him. He's coming.”**

**… Superman refrained from asking if they could race each other.**

**\--**

(Superman was  _ such  _ a jock, but Batman would only say that fondly.)

Bruce did indeed shuffle his way back shortly thereafter, holding several boxes.

“...these are velocity measuring tools. Based on windspeed and force they’ll see what your throw strength is. To not break them  _ entirely,  _ and to  _ also  _ not break my floor, we’ll be working with ballistics gel. So no one is allowed to miss.”

\--

**“Ballistics gel?” Superman asked, unsure what that was. It was a few years too early for them. He looked at his Batman to see if he had an idea, or maybe worked with something similar under a different name.**

**\--**

Batman did know about it, but… wasn’t exactly fond. 

“It’s used for firearms testing,” he said. 

Guns. 

“In this case, it’s probably the only thing that will stop these fast enough without breaking them or the floor,” Bruce said, setting the squares down on the table. “Barry, make sure these are all set to zero. We’ll be going down to the training floor. Less stuff to break.”

He got them moving. 

\--

**Both supers got moving.**

**“Wait, so I won't be throwing Superman?”**

**The young one sounded** **_so_ ** **disappointed.**

**\--**

“We need to know you throw the same first,” Batman told him again. 

(Bruce muttered, ‘what did we learn about thinking for yourself?’ but didn’t get confrontational about it in front of a crowd.

But God. That Batman really  _ did  _ do all the heavy lifting in the brains.)

...he had Diana and Clark help him set up several vertical feet of ballistics gel on the training ground floor before  _ daring  _ to give Clark the okay, having him move to the far end of the room and the edge of the training mat before his throw.

\--

**Superman glared at the back of Bruce's head, but didn't start a fight.**

**“... Full strength? Are we sure the gel will stop it?” Clark asked, sounding… unsure.**

**Hesitant about his power.**

**\--**

...Bruce sighed. “That’s why we’re in the training room. You blasted my wall with heat vision, once. If that didn’t bring the cave down, we’ll be fine.”

It’d just scare the bats.

\--

**Clark took a breath.**

**Tilted his hand back.**

**Let it go.**

**…**

**The gel did not survive. At least, it didn't stop it.**

**The tool was just.**

**Gone.**

**\--**

Yeah, well. 

  
That’s why they had the double attempt at measurement. 

Bruce sighed and went to go take Clark’s ballistics off from where he’d set them. 

Carried them to the side. 

Set out fresh blocks. 

“Alright. Next.”

Meanwhile, the Batman from the other world had gone wide-eyed and reached out to grip his Superman’s wrist in alarm.

\--

**Superman was… maybe a little cocky. He looked at his Batman and smiled a little.**

**It's okay.**

**He wiggled his wrist around so they were holding hands.**

**“Should I dial it back a little?” Clark asked as he took the second measurement tool.**

**\--**

_ “Kent _ ,” his Batman warned. 

“That will skew the results,” Bruce told him, and it doubled as a threat. 

\--

**“What?” Superman asked, looking sheepish.**

**“Will there** **_be_ ** **results to skew?” Clark asked, but did as Bruce wanted and threw a second time.**

**Same results.**

**\--**

“Yes,” said Bruce said. “Knowing it’s above an upper limit is still a measurement.”

There was more ballistics gel this time. 

He made Barry write kitchen tape labels for the attempts. 

Next, they swapped out Supermen. 

\--

**Superman stepped forward and pushed up his goggles.**

**Okay. Beat this Superman. No problem.**

**He threw it as hard as he could.**

**…**

**It didn't go through the gel like his counterpart's had.**

**He looked pretty…. shocked.**

**Clark was smiling as he stood beside Bruce.**

**\--**

Bruce raised his eyebrows but…. did his best to make no comment. 

(The other world’s Batman looked like he was suffering from all the secondhand embarrassment of his superman’s bragging.)

Without….  _ Mentioning  _ the item still embedded in the gel, they set up for a second round. 

...okay, he was trying hard to not ask if Superman was warmed up now. 

“When you're ready.”

\--

**Clark had to try really hard to wipe the shit-eating grin off his face.**

**Superman said nothing as he took the second device.**

**Wound up.**

**…**

**Same result.**

**…**

**He looked at Batman.**

**“Kill me.”**

**\--**

“You dug this grave. Lie in it,” Batman said. 

“Want to run measurements, Victor?” Bruce asked tiredly. Trying to engage the whole team. But Victor just coughed a little to hide a bark of laughter, and told them the……. amount of force to the  _ power  _ that their Clark was stronger than that other Superman. 

“...alright.  _ Now  _ we chuck you over the lake, and you tell us if his strength is still comparable to the portal’s throw.”

Ignored the alternate’s embarrassment. 

Time to make him more embarrassed. 

\--

**Clark gave his younger self a pat on the back as they headed outside for the last bit of the test.**

**“I don't get it. He's scrawny by comparison.” Superman said quietly to his Batman.**

**\--**

“Could be age,” Batman said, trying to not look rattled at the thought. “You're stronger than when you were a teenager. Maybe you just keep growing.”

“It could be a lot of things.”

Bruce hauled a crash-dummy under his arm and led the way out to the lake, gesturing for the Superman's to take to the air. 

The alternate would throw first as a continuation of the test, to see if he even  _ could  _ throw as hard as a portal, and then Clark would throw to see if it could be  _ withstood  _ by him. 

Crash test dummy for if he would be able to… help Batman survive a bad landing. 

\--

**“It is, don’t worry about it.” Clark said as they walked. “We’re powered by the sun. I’ve got 20 extra years on you.”**

**Superman stared at him.**

**“... That explains** **_so much_ ** **of my childhood.”**

**Clark laughed, “Right?”**

**They both took to the air and locked arms.**

**“Okay, swing and release after a countdown?” Clark said, and his younger self nodded.**

**\--**

“Explains barely sleeping,” Batman mumbled a little, but got into position with the others by the lakeside, crouching down to watch quietly. 

A little anxious. 

\--

**Superman held Clark’s arms and started to swing him around in a circle, getting faster and faster. They were almost a blur when he finally count down and let go.**

**Clark was a blotch in the sky before there was a loud ‘** **_BOOM_ ** **’ of displaced air and he stopped.**

**“Sometimes I think this all is just a fever dream.” Barry said, watching.**

**\--**

“Are  _ you  _ trapped in another world with a crazy, older version of you?” Batman asked, deadpan, his visor set to record what was happening. 

“Comparable?” Bruce called out over the lake, ignoring the bickering children.  

\--

**Clark gave him a thumbs up as he flew back down. “Maybe a little on the weaker side, but I would say it’s comparable.”**

**“** **_Ugh,_ ** **” Superman groaned.**

**\--**

“Think you can do it a bit stronger for him?”

(Batman rubbed his popped ears, not sure he wanted to know what it would be like in the  _ middle  _ of that boom.)

\--

**“‘Course.” Clark grinned, and reached out to take Superman’s arm as he grumbled and pulled down his goggles.**

**He swung him around before letting go.**

**… The main difference one could notice watching would be that Superman controlled his posture** **_leagues_ ** **better than this world’s. Even though he was flung with nothing to roll against he kept his arms close to his center and rolled himself into a better position before pushing his legs out and stopping gradually rather than in one massive push.**

**There was no massive displacement of air like there had been with Clark because he knew a sudden, jerky stop would hurt Batman.**

**\--**

After seeing Clark hurtled through the air as a blur, it was almost jarring to know that Superman had been thrown  _ harder _ , yet was  _ visible  _ and  _ trackable  _ as he came to a stop. 

And while Bruce stared up in surprise, not expecting Superman to be able to stop easier when he didn't have the force or power of Clark, it was jarring again for Batman to be the one calling up, “you good?”

As if a kryptonian would need being checked up on. 

\--

**“M’Good!” Superman called out before flying back down.**

**“That wasn’t as bad as I thought, but I’m worried about your head not being steady enough during the initial toss.”**

**Clark looked a little surprised too, looking down at Bruce.**

**\--**

Bruce waved Clark down.

“...you sure that was the force?” he asked as the other two had their own discussion. 

“We can practice with the test dummy,” Batman said. “And I can wear a brace for entries if we’re still worried. Only on the neck. Need to be able to bounce, otherwise.”

…. Victor, meanwhile, had pulled up a screen out of his arm and was leaning over to show Barry, as if he wasn't sure if his sensors had really picked it up right. 

\--

**“Yeah, that was the force.” Clark said, lowering himself down and then looking at Victor’s readings too.**

**It was roughly the same.**

**Superman was looking over at the conjuring group around Victor though. “... What’s the problem…?”**

**\--**

“....no problem,” Victor said, still a little stunned. “Just… making sure we caught that right.”

Diana looked  _ very pleased  _ with the young ones, though. “You have excellent control.”

\--

**Superman beamed, “Thanks.”**

**“... I guess we do it with the dummy now?” Clark asked, flying back up.**

**\--**

Bruce nodded. Handed the dummy over. 

“The pads on it will record the crash data…”

\--

**Superman grabbed the dummy and held it in a way that tried to brace it as much as he could himself.**

**“Okay, ready.”**

**He flew up and took Clark's arm once it was offered.**

**\--**

Batman  glanced over at the Cyborg again. Watching as they set up filming once more. 

...Superman wasn't going in unprepared this time. So he pursed his lips and thought  _ don't underestimate us _ .

\--

**Superman held the dummy close to him as Clark spun him around, using his body as a sort of harness to keep as many limbs close and against him as possible.**

**When Clark let go the results were similar.**

**Superman knew how to roll. He knew how to compensate for someone much more fragile in his arms, and he knew how to stop gradually without putting any undo force upon the person in his arms.**

**None of the sensors tripped.**

**\--**

Victor could hardly believe it when the supers descended again to show the results of the startlingly unhurt dummy in Superman’s arms. 

But Batman was just smirking. All pride restored. 

He gave Superman a high five and pulled him into a hug as he landed. “All those rescue runs really paid off, huh?”

\--

**Clark was hovered behind Victor, watching the readings, eyes wide.**

**Superman highfived him back and set the dummy down to return the hug. “Guess so.”**

**\--**

Bruce wasn't even sure what to say. This was clearly the best case scenario, but it was still--

“Wanna try with me up there?” Batman asked. 

\--Jesus. 

Bruce looked at Clark and Victor like he wasn't sure if he was going crazy or not.

\--

**“Well none of the sensors tripped, right? I’d say it’s safe to try it. Better than you going in without any idea what it feels like.” Superman said, looking over at the startled group. “... Right?”**

**Clark finally looked up, “... Yeah. Uh, have you done this sort of thing before?”**

**\--**

“I mean, not with wormholes,” Batman said, but waved his hand dismissively. “But there's been… unfortunate bombing incidents. Sometimes I'd have to jump on my own while Clark got the area cleared. Not exactly the same, but a shockwave’s a lot faster than what I'd usually be sent out on my own.”

_ And  _ he had to be caught. 

Honestly, the fact that they started this  _ knowing  _ what was coming and able to position themselves optimally beforehand was a major advantage. 

\--

**“And it doesn’t really matter what it is,” Superman said with a shrug. “Just because I can take it doesn’t mean that anyone else can. You have to know how to compensate for force.”**

**… Clark just looked at Bruce.**

**\--**

(...Bruce looked away. 

...they were right. He'd been trying to get Clark to know how to control his powers better, but… maybe they were too late for that.)

“...besides,” Batman added. “We’re not… fighting ninja assassins or alien invasions. If we aren't doing rescue, we’re dealing with petty crime and mobs. If we can control the force, we’re also protecting ourselves.”

It was easy to want to arrest the alien who blew off your arms. 

It was harder to arrest the alien who only gave you the same sort of brief burn touching a stove would. 

\--

**“... Hm.” Clark mumbled, arms folded. He didn’t feel** **_jealous_ ** **, he just… felt like he wasn’t going** **_enough_ ** **.**

**“Yeah,” Superman said. “I deal with** **_people_ ** **. And they’re** **_really easy to hurt lethally_ ** **. So you gotta be careful.”**

**_They would never kill._ **

**\--**

They would never kill. 

…maybe it hadn't been something Clark--Superman-- _ either  _ of them had thought of before putting on the costume. 

It was a small thing, but it mattered, and this world hadn't had Bruce beside Clark from the start. 

But the first time Superman had mentioned wanting to use his powers to help people in that Paris hotel room, Batman had shattered in front of him, and killing had been carved out as real. A possibility. And the  _ worst  _ possibility. 

Superman had gone in with that night in mind and someone willing to help him  _ stay  _ non-lethal. 

And every time that control slipped, Batman was still there, gripping his arm, holding him back. 

(And if Bruce ever snarled ‘ _ I'm going to kill him’  _ again, Superman would hold him back, too)

They went in with a promise. And maybe that hard line they'd yet to cross made it easier for them, where this world’s Clark and Bruce both already had blood on their hands. 

“Even I have to be careful,” Batman added. “And I'm not exactly front lines, here. But even a broken nose or a bad enough break could spell the end for someone. So caution first.”

He looked over at Clark.  

“You ready to try with me?”

\--

**It was… humbling listening to two kids talk like this.**

**“... Sure,” Clark said, and took to the air.**

**Superman held out his arms for Bruce.**

**\--**

Batman stepped into Superman’s arms. He took a moment to arrange himself. 

Arms pressed to his chest. Head under Superman’s chin. Once the grip was secure, he pulled his legs up too, bracing himself in a ball against Clark’s chest--no legs flapping around in the wind. Easy to control and curl up around. Less chances for limb or skull injury. 

“Ready.”

\--

**Superman held him tight as he took to the air. “Yell if we need to stop or make adjustments.”**

**He grabbed Clark’s arm.**

**Once they had given the ready Clark started to spin them around.**

**\--**

Bruce felt his chest tighten on the ground. Both he and Batman were holding their breaths. 

( _ He looks too much like Dick we need to stop this _ \--)

But they were already being thrown. 

\--

**They were being thrown and Superman was keeping Batman secure in his arms just like every time before back in their own world, and he was turning and bracing out his legs to slide them to a stop.**

**And he looked down at Batman to make sure he was alright.**

**“You okay?”**

**\--**

From the ground, they could see it as Batman’s head emerged from the hold and his legs slipped down again, nothing the worse for wear. 

“Barely a roller coaster,” he said, smirking. 

\--

**Superman grinned and flew them both back down to the ground, setting Batman on his feet.**

**“Seems like we’ll be fine.”**

**\--**

Batman nodded, still exceptionally pleased. 

“Great.” He looked over at Victor. “When can we go?”

He was beyond ready to be home. 

\--

**Clark landed beside them.**

**“Uh, I guess as soon as possible.” Victor said, and looked at Bruce for confirmation. “Where do you want me to do this?”**

**\--**

…

Bruce sighed. Pinched his nose. 

“...Cave,” he said. “Less chance of interception.”

“You two have anything you need…?”

He felt like he was sending kids on a camping trip. Like he'd be picking them up in a few hours. 

He wouldn't be. 

“No,” Batman said. “No offense, I'm--  _ really  _ ready to leave everything behind. Even Netflix.”

\--

**Superman nodded in agreement. “Yeah, really ready to go home. I'll miss the gay rights, but…” He looked down at Batman, “We can help that along in our world, I think.”**

**\--**

Batman nodded, face set and determined. 

“Yeah,” he said. “I've got a couple plans for when we get back…”

But they were ready to go. 

\--

**Superman couldn't wait to hear them.**

**They all walked back down into the cave, taking point in a part that was open enough but secure. As Victor readied himself Clark looked over at Diana.**

**“Hold down the fort while I'm gone?”**

**_Watch over Bruce._ **

**_\--_ **

Diana nodded, joviality gone. 

“I will,” she promised. “Take the time you need, Kal.”

And to the youths, she turned, too. 

“I am sorry for what befell you here,” she told them both. “But know you should both be proud of the warriors you are becoming.”

She gave them both a hug, tight and warm, and accepted no stuttering refusals. 

“Be safe and bring peace to your world.”

\--

**Superman smiled and returned the hug, even if he knew that Bruce was probably rigid and uncomfortable beside him.**

**“Thank you.”**

**…**

**Clark put a hand on Bruce's shoulder. “I won't be long.”**

**\--**

Batman endured the hug with… more ease than he expected, really. It was still unfamiliar, but Diana, at least, had only ever been a good thing to see. 

Maybe she reminded him of Superman a little. 

….

And behind them, Bruce nodded, voice low. 

“I know,” he said. “...be safe.”

And he turned to Cyborg. 

“Victor.”

\--

**Clark gave him a smile and prepared himself as Victor got everything going.**

**“Alright, see you on the other side.”**

**He calibrated his gun and fired, opening up a portal.**

**Superman reached down and lifted Batman into his arms, holding him tightly.**

**\--**

Batman curled his head. Tucked his arms and legs. 

Held his breath. 

And they were through. 


	12. last chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the world mentioned in this chapter is the same one as in "like real people do" ( https://archiveofourown.org/works/15354231 ) 
> 
> Which Clark has been thrown into like, four different times now (well, twice at least) off screen

 

**Now it was the other world's turn to deal with an energy surge.**

 

**It pulsed and fluxed, and after a moment figures were spit out.**

 

**… Over the ocean.**

 

**Clark didn't stop in time before he crashed into the water like a meteor, and Superman didn't have quite the same space to stop as before.**

 

**“Water! Impact!” He yelled out, trying to stop a little faster.**

 

**His feet skid along the top before they dipped below the surface.**

 

**\--**

 

This wasn't  _ quite  _ why Batman was holding his breath, but it worked out he supposed. 

 

Clark broke the surface tension, making the entry easier on Bruce at least. And at the very least, he knew how to swim. 

 

As soon as he could feel them floating, he unwound his arms and legs, wrapping around Clark, and started kicking to get them to the surface, worried he might've been stunned by the impact and unable to swim himself. 

 

\--

 

**He had to admit, he was a little stunned. After a moment he kicked upwards with Batman and broke the surface, coughing and spitting out water.**

 

**“You okay?”**

 

**Batman was his first priority.**

 

**\--**

 

Batman surfaced without hacking or spitting. Just opened his mouth to breathe and float. He'd had the better landing of them. 

 

“Yeah. I'm okay.”  

 

He glanced around. Looking for the other Superman. 

 

“Shit. Float and recover, I'm gonna--”

 

He took another breath and dove under again, scanning the dark water for a body. 

 

\--

 

**There was a body. It was sinking.**

 

**\--**

 

Not for long. 

 

Bruce surfaced once more to take a deep breath of air, and dove. 

 

He may not have had super strength or super speed, but he'd had enough swimming lessons and was arodynamic in water in a way Clark wasn't. He wrapped himself around the body and started to kick upwards, hauling Superman to the surface. 

 

\--

 

**Superman stuck his head under to watch, then as soon as Clark was above water he helped grab him to keep him up.**

 

**He coughed and sputtered now that he had air, dazed.**

 

**\--**

 

_ Now  _ Batman gasped a little for air, feeling the strain on the edges of himself once they were almost at the surface. But still: he was okay. He hadn't swallowed anything. 

 

He thumped Clark’s back, trying to help him get the water out. “You with us, big guy…?”

 

\--

 

**“-Hrgh- yeah--” Clark coughed, treading water with them and getting the water from his lungs. “Sorry-- wasn't expecting-- water--” he coughed again.**

 

**“I don't think any of us were.” Superman said.**

 

**\--**

 

Earth was 70% water, so maybe they should have, but it was too late now.

 

Batman held on to the other two, still treading water and keeping his head above the waves. 

 

“We should get up if you can…” he said, moving closer to his Superman. Wrapping an arm around his shoulder, ready to takeoff. “Maybe we can figure out what direction to go.”

 

He wasn't looking forward to a five hour flight in Clark’s arms if they were in the dead center of the ocean. 

 

Or worse: if they took the wrong direction. 

 

“How do you contact this League?”

 

\--

 

**“I have a communicator,” Clark said, coughing one more time before he gave the nod he was okay. He and Superman flew up out of the waves, the younger one reaching back to help prop Batman on his back.**

 

**Clark found the comm unit in his suit and pressed the tracker. “Let’s hope it still works after being submerged in salt water.”**

 

**\--**

 

Batman climbed aboard Superman easily, used to this. 

 

The communicator, thankfully, seemed to be made pretty sturdily. Maybe with Aquaman in mind?

 

“ _ Watchtower _ ,” a voice buzzed through. 

 

\--

 

**“Hello, this is Superman from…” he paused, unable to remember which universe they had numbered him. “... Well, the one that keeps winding up here whether he likes it or not. You probably know the one by now.”**

 

**\--**

 

“ _ Ah _ ,” said the voice. “ _ I see. Is your device broken? _ ”

 

They'd made him one so he didn't have to rely on them each time. 

 

\--

 

**“No, actually. This time I actually came here by choice. I actually have… quite a big favor to ask you.”**

 

**“Two heros got dumped into our world and we’re trying to get them home, but we just don’t have the technology to track down where they’re from. I was hoping you would be able to help us.”**

 

**\--**

 

There was a surprised pause over the line. 

 

“ _ I see. Would you happen to be the energy surge over the Pacific? _ ”

 

\--

 

**“That’s us.” Clark said, looking around.**

 

**“I have them with me now. Our trip was really only possible one way.”**

 

**\--**

 

“ _ Aquaman is coming up with a transport,”  _ the voice said. “ _ It will be a few brief minutes.” _

 

_ \-- _

 

**“Thank you.”**

 

**…**

 

**“You know the first thing I’m going to do when we get home?” Superman said to Batman.**

 

**“Shower.”**

 

**\--**

 

Batman huffed. 

 

“Yeah? What, get the otherworldly sweat off?”

 

It'd be nice to be in a familiar bathroom, though. 

 

\--

 

**“And the saltwater.” He grumbled.**

 

**\--**

 

Batman released one arm just enough to ruffle his hair. “...honestly? Sounds good.”

 

The ocean below them began to suck upwards suddenly, a vessel rising up from below unlike anything they'd ever seen. It was green and frilled--

 

\--and a submarine. 

 

\--

 

**Superman smiled, but quickly raised them both upward a little at the sight of the submarine.**

 

**Clark looked down at it, but wasn't too surprised. This world was far more forward then theirs.**

 

**\--**

 

This world was pretty well established, its League public even by most standards. 

 

But the man wearing Arthur’s crest looked nothing like the Arthur Curry Clark would know. 

 

He was blond and thin, with short cropped hair and a well-trimmed beard, and no tattoos in sight. 

 

But had the triton and raised a hand in greeting at the sight of two Supermen in the air. 

 

Bruce stared down in obvious…. distaste of his fashion choices. 

 

\--

 

**Even Clark was a little put off and surprised at the man he saw, but he did his best not to show it. He landed on the submarine and Superman slowly followed too, Batman back on his feet.**

 

**“Thanks for the lift,” Clark said, extending a hand.**

 

**\--**

 

“Arthur Curry,” the man said, and jeez, he was as white as Bruce. “No problem. We have a Zeta onboard to get you up to the Watchtower.”

 

\--

 

**Wow, same name too?**

 

**Wild. Bruce will be amused to hear about this.**

 

**Superman offered his hand too, unaware of the differences. No need for introductions for them he thought, right? Everyone knew Superman and Batman.**

 

**“Great. The sooner we can all get home the better.” Clark said.**

 

**\--**

 

Arthur’s eyes lingered on the odd logos on their chest, but he said nothing overtly at the moment, and led them down a ladder, into the odd submarine. 

 

There were other people there, though. Atlantenas. Ones with different skins, some with visible gills or fins. 

 

Batman realized belatedly that this wasn't a team. This was a  _ platoon.  _

 

But he kept his fucking mouth shut, and followed a few steps behind Superman. 

 

“So,” Arthur said, leading them to a wide, circular archway and starting to type on the keyboard beside it. “Superman and two guests…”

 

\--

 

**“Superman-” Clark said gesturing to him, “-and Batman,” he gestured to Bruce.**

 

**He realized they probably didn’t recognize the logos in this world, not with Batman being… what he was.**

 

**\--**

 

Arthur's eyebrows went up, startled. 

 

He could recognize an… alternative version of the kryptonian, but? 

 

His eyes went to the helmeted one behind him, and the only visible skin of his body that was the hook of the ‘J’.

 

“Ah… okay. Surprised to see you two together…”

 

He went back to typing in the codes. 

 

….two superman, one Batman. 

 

\--

 

**Superman blinked, a little put off by that.**

 

**“What’d you mean ‘surprised to see us together’?”**

 

**\--**

 

“...” Aquaman’s eyes looked over them once more, a little more reserved than they had been. “Just sort of an odd-duck team up for our world, I guess. Ready to go?”

 

\--

 

**“... Yeah, ready.” Superman said, still clearly wanting to ask a few** **_questions_ ** **about where this line of conversation was going.**

 

**\--**

 

Not going anywhere. It was done. 

 

Portal was opening and ready to roll a moment later. 

 

“Superman should be waiting for you on the other end,” Aquaman said, and gestured for them to go through.

 

\--

 

**Clark nodded and thanked him again, stepping through.**

 

**“... It’s safe.” He said to Superman, who wasn’t sure.**

 

**… But eventually he did step through, hand on Bruce’s back.**

 

**Not sure how this world would react to them holding hands.**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce followed. Back straight. Head high. 

 

He wasn’t sure what to expect on the other side--

 

\--but another young, handsome Superman, flanked by windows staring out to space, was not it. 

 

“Hey,” the third Super said. Holding out his hand to shake Clark’s. To reach for Bruce and his own Superman. “You uh, tread this path often?”

 

\--

 

**Clark shook his hand and gave him a tired smile, “** **_Too often._ ** **”**

 

**Superman blinked and shook his… other’s hand, a little numbly, but mostly he was staring out past them at the windows.**

 

**“B. B. We’re in** **_space_ ** **.” He ‘whispered’ excitedly down to his partner.**

 

**\--**

 

….even Batman’s own excitement about being in space got a little overshadowed by enjoying Superman’s reaction. “Yeah, I can see, man--”

 

He ignored the odd, surprised look that this world’s Supes gave him, instead turning to him to ask, “Look: do you guys have space colonies yet? Please, he’s been dying for space colonies.”

 

\--

 

**“Uh, well I’m not sure if I would call them** **_colonies_ ** **but we do have a few stations in space and a Martian on the team.” Supes said, and Superman grinned like a kid in a candy store.**

 

**“That’s so cool. What year is it here?”**

 

**\--**

 

Supes seemed a little surprised at that question, but he answered. 

 

“2011,” he said. 

 

\--

 

**Now it was time for both Supers to look shocked, but the younger one turned and looked at Clark almost sympathetic.**

 

**“Man your world just** **_sucks_ ** **doesn’t it?”**

 

**\--**

 

“Wait,” Batman said. “What about me? Am I a dick in this one, too? Because that’ll  _ really  _ seal it. But yeah, your world  _ kind of sucks _ .”

 

He was not especially sympathetic after being kidnapped and tortured for three weeks.

 

\--

 

**“... You’re… Batman?” Supes asked, sounding unsure.**

 

**\--**

 

…

 

He honestly wasn’t sure what to make of all this hesitancy, either. 

 

“Yes,” he said, voice a little firmer. Less fooling around. Less familiar. 

 

Because he was  _ serious _ . He did want to know. 

 

He’d started to relax, being around other vigilantes. But he was still  _ Batman _ .

 

\--

 

**Supes looked… hesitant.**

 

**“You’re… better than you were?” He offered, hesitant. “You aren’t part of this Justice League.”**

 

**\--**

 

...Bruce felt himself getting cold. A little numb inside. 

 

...he reached up and tugged his helmet off, letting his icy eyes and the brand burned in his face try and cut this Supes to the quick. 

 

“And?”

 

This wasn’t enough information for him.

 

“What  _ am  _ I, then, if I’m not with  _ you? _ ”

 

And he gripped Superman’s wrist.

 

\--

 

**Supes was still a little hesitant.**

 

**“... You** **_used to be_ ** **an assassin of Ra's Al Ghul. Now you live in Gotham. We let you act as a vigilante under close watch.”**

 

**…**

 

**Superman felt something hot in his chest. Like he wanted to yell.**

 

**\--**

 

...Bruce kept that inside. Under lock and key. Fastened it away deep inside for later.

 

“Fucking hell,” he said. “Am I the  _ only one  _ who didn’t run to that guy?”

 

He sounded more disappointed than anything else. 

 

Shoved any shame onto the two who’d gone. 

 

Left to be with  _ Ra’s _ .

 

\--

 

**Clark just sighed, “Maybe. It's hard to say. You might not want to know either.”**

 

**Superman swallowed the anger and didn't care about appearances right now, putting an arm around Bruce's shoulders.**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce had already dealt the damage. He leaned back into Clark’s arms and tugged his mask back on. 

 

“Fine. Let’s get this over with. How do we get home?”

 

\--

 

**“We’ll get a reading on your own energy signatures and be able to pinpoint your home world with that. Follow me.” Supes said, and turned to lead them deeper into the satellite.**

 

**\--**

 

Batman was more than ready to lead, heading forward deeper into the ship, taking in what they saw but… with a lot less enthusiasm than he would’ve liked to muster. 

 

He was  _ tired  _ of seeing versions of himself who made the worst decisions. 

 

…

 

This one had chosen to kill, apparently. 

 

He didn’t… want to meet them. 

 

He didn’t know what he’d do to them if he did. 

 

\--

 

**Clark wouldn’t really need to be around much for this, but he tagged along anyway to at least give the kids a familiar face.**

 

**This world’s Supes introduced them to those who would be helping them get home, and they explained they would be reading their individual energy signatures and then fixing one of their zeta tubes to those coordinates to send them home. Thankfully reading their energies was pretty uninvasive. All they had to do was stand around and get scanned by some machine.**

 

**It would take a little while to pinpoint it though, so while they waited they were allowed to roam the break room.**

 

**… At least it had a nice view of the earth.**

 

**\--**

 

...it was a nice view of earth. 

 

….it was something Bruce hadn’t ever seen before, at least. It was something else, to see the earth like this. To have more perspective on how tiny they were. 

 

On how small they were.

 

...but at the same time, it just made him… tired. 

 

God. 

 

“...I wish I cared more,” he told Clark quietly as they waited in the break room. “But honestly… fuck this.”

 

\--

 

**Clark looked away from the world down below and shifted a bit closer, reaching down to take Bruce’s hand and squeeze it while he didn’t think anyone was watching.**

 

**“We’ll be home soon, B.”**

 

**\--**

 

Bruce didn’t care if they watched or not anymore. 

 

He was an assassin here? He was a murderer? 

 

They could fucking  _ deal  _ if he was gay. 

 

“I know,” he said. “I’m just… tired.”

 

He leaned back against Clark. Gave him a kiss on the neck.

 

“I want to fix  _ our  _ world instead of enduring these… ones.”

 

\--

 

**Clark wrapped his arms around Bruce and let him lean back against him.**

 

**“Ours will be the best out of all of them,” he smiled and leaned down to kiss him.**

 

**In front of the whole world.**

 

**\--**

 

...huh.

 

Yeah. 

 

In front of the window glass, Bruce guessed it was true. 

 

The whole world was watching. 

 

...and he found he was okay with that for the moment. 

 

… 

 

It would be another three hours before their portal was ready. 

 

But Batman was ready to hold on and endure one more fling when the time came. 

 

\--

 

**“You’re sure this will be our world and not some random one?” Clark asked as they stood in front of it.**

 

**Wanting to be sure.**

 

**\--**

 

“Yes,” Supes said, nodding. “...we haven’t messed up before without some major flaw.”

 

\--

 

**“... Alright,” Clark said, and held out his arms for Bruce, ready for the same impact.**

 

**“... Thank you for everything.”**

 

**\--**

 

...Bruce couldn’t find it in himself to thank. 

 

He just nodded. 

 

“...take care,” he said, bracing himself against Clark then. 

 

\--

 

**Clark held tight onto Bruce and… stepped in.**

 

**And they were flung back into their world.**

 

**\--**

 

This time, on impact, they were alone. 

 

Alive. And alone. 

 

And home. 

 

“Home,” Bruce told Clark, clinging to him once the air had steadied around them. Once they were hovering there, someplace deserted, far up in the atmosphere. “Gotham.”

 

Clark wanted to take a shower. 

 

But they had business to get to, too. 

 

He didn’t know how long they’d been gone in this world, but--

 

They had to call the Kents. 

 

They had to call Alfred. 

 

\--

 

**The smell and feel of Gotham was something you never really forgot. Even if Clark didn’t have the same attachment as Bruce did.**

 

**“Finally…”**

 

**He looked down at Bruce and kissed him, relieved and smiling.**

 

**“Let’s go.”**

 

**He flew them to the manor and was ready to get back down to business.**

 

**This was his home.**

 

**He planned to make it so much better than all the ones he had seen so far, right by Batman’s side.**

 

**Author's Note:**

> again, Title from Hayley Kiyoko's Wild and Wicked World  
> https://youtu.be/bFFHBvX75-M
> 
> what happening to batman incoming


End file.
